Playing the Hero
by lindir's gaze
Summary: Swapping bodies with an ancient warrior is no fun, especially when everyone expects you to act as a bodyguard for a group of dwarves and a hobbit. Quinn Fleming has no idea where she is, how she got there, or how she ended up in the wrong body, but she decides to do what anyone would when handed a sword and a mission: be the hero.
1. Character Select

**Chapter 1: Character Select**

When Quinn Fleming came to, she wondered why her spine was still intact, and why the hospital room looked so weird.

The walls were painted a creamy gold, and the arching ceilings a soft white. There were no monitors, no IV drip. Quinn sat up. The bed was way too big to be for a hospital room.

Okay, maybe she wasn't in a hospital. Maybe they'd put her in an asylum for almost-dying in such a dumbass way.

The door opened, and a man walked in. He wore long green robes embroidered with gold thread and his long, dark hair was held in place by a silver circlet. Upon seeing her awake, his eyes widened slightly and he approached the bed.

"Greetings, ancient warrior. I trust you are well-rested?" He put one hand on his chest and inclined his head.

Nope. She wasn't in a hospital or an asylum. She'd been kidnapped by a fucking cult leader.

"Where am I?" Quinn asked, then cleared her throat. Her voice sounded deeper than usual.

"You are in Rivendell, an elven realm in the valley of Imladris. I am Lord Elrond, guardian of this house."

She had never heard of a place called Rivendell, or a valley called Imladris. Was she still in California?

Before she could ask him to clarify, another man walked in. He was not in keeping with the pristine aesthetic of the room and Cult Leader Elrond, with his unruly beard and gray robes that looked _really_ itchy.

But she knew him. Quinn pointed at the man. "Gandalf?"

He grinned. "Ah, I am glad to see you recognize me, old friend. It has been many years since last we met."

Okay, so these people were Lord of the Rings fans. She'd never read the books (boring) or watched the movies (long) but she'd recognize the pointy gray hat the same way anyone would recognize Superman's S or Spock's weird haircut. That was something familiar, at least, but she didn't get why the old guy was acting like they'd met before.

She could play along for now, and hope they didn't decide to chop her arms off or dump her in a barrel of perchloric acid. "My memory is...foggy. I…" What was the medieval way to say, _Can you give me a quick rundown on what the fuck is going on?_

"You are Belekur, one of the ancient warriors of old. You have been summoned to Middle Earth to defend and protect its free peoples," Gandalf said patiently, as though he'd done this before.

Maybe this was his routine for indoctrinating new cult members. Maybe, a few rooms down, some guy dressed as Batman was telling another NDE survivor that they were Gilgamesh, the legendary hero.

She needed to find a phone and call the police. "I need some time to...meditate. And regain my warrior strength. Perhaps my thoughts will be clearer then."

"Of course. We will leave you in peace." Gandalf turned to go. Lord Elrond inclined his head again and followed him out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Quinn pushed the covers aside and stood up. She was wearing a thin white gown, and none of her stuff was anywhere to be found. They'd probably taken her phone, along with the selfie stick and the hoverboard she'd also had when she'd…

It was probably best not to think about that. Quinn winced and rubbed the back of her neck...and froze. Tangled between her fingers were long strands of thick, dark hair—about a foot longer than she was used to having it.

"Oh my god, was I in a coma?"

Was this a Captain America situation, where she'd been in suspended animation for sixty years, only to wake up in a futuristic world where everyone dressed up like fantasy characters?

 _Quinn Fleming, you've been recruited into the Medieval Avengers Initiative. Code Name: Bekeldorf._

She padded her way to the door and leaned close to check if the two men were gone yet. In fact, they were not—she could hear Gandalf's voice on the other side.

"This is clearly a sign. Belekur's appearance and the arrival of Thorin's Company in Rivendell cannot be a coincidence."

"The ancient warriors have only ever appeared in times of chaos or danger, I will grant you that," Elrond said. "But if this danger is Smaug, as you claim, Belekur should have appeared two hundred years ago, when the dragon first attacked Erebor."

"It is not only Smaug," Gandalf said. "Trolls have come down from the mountains. Orcs have attacked us along the Great East Road. Darkness is encroaching upon these lands, and I believe the reclamation of Erebor is the key to restoring peace."

"It is a risky move, Gandalf. But if Belekur chooses to join your quest, then it is out of my hands."

Their voices began to fade as they walked away. Quinn leaned against the door and sighed. Either these people were really dedicated to their D&D roleplay to come up with weird dialogues about dragons and trolls, or they really believed they were in a world where those things existed. She was leaning towards a third option: cult lord and wizard man were both _batshit_.

She'd have to find a phone, or a smoke signal, or whatever the hell they used here, and get help. Quinn opened the door a crack, peeking through. The hallway was empty.

She crept out and closed the door behind her, then started walking down the hallway. The thin fabric of her gown rustled lightly as she moved, making her feel like a patient escaping a creepy hospital, Outlast style.

The hallway opened up into an outdoor walkway, and Quinn felt her mouth drop open. The place was a lot bigger than she'd expected, and looked sort of like a meditation retreat—all open courtyards and waterfalls and archways. But she'd barely taken that in before her focus was drawn to what was beyond the buildings.

She actually was in a valley. A sea of green and orange-leaved trees covered the bottom, and several waterfalls cascaded down the sides. The whole view was more than a little surreal. If she lived in a place like this, she might start thinking she was in a fantasy world too.

Quinn began walking, eyes wide with wonder as she took in her surroundings. Whoever had built this place had done an awesome job of making it look magical. It was a little like Disneyland, minus the screaming kids and sweaty actors dressed like Mickey Mouse.

The air smelled a lot cleaner, too. It reminded her of all the times she would step outside for a breath of fresh air after spending hours locked in her office editing videos.

Eventually, she found herself back indoors, in a large, book-filled room she guessed was supposed to be a library. There were no phones in sight, or even electric lights.

That was a little weird, but maybe these people had an Amish thing going on. She'd have to find the nearest road, then, and follow it back to _actual_ civilization. There was no way this whole place had been built all the way out in the middle of a damn valley without a road to bring in construction materials.

"Ah, Belekur."

Quinn spun around, eyes wide. Elrond was approaching her, a sword held in one hand and a bundle in the other. Her gaze zeroed in on the long, pointy object. _Oh, god. This is the end._

"I came to deliver these to you. Your sword, Thannas, and your armor." He handed the blade to her, then the armor.

Wasn't that the purple guy from Avengers? Quinn tentatively accepted the objects. So he wasn't going to stab her, which was a plus, but she had a dozen more questions now. Did he actually think she was some ancient warrior? Why was she able to hold a bunch of metal like it was plastic?

"I don't understand—" Quinn was only able to get out those three words before another man rushed into the room, looking flustered.

"My lord Elrond. It is the dwarves, they are…" A chorus of shouting followed by a resounding crash sounded from somewhere nearby. The guy winced.

"Are...we being invaded?" Quinn asked. They were really going all out.

"No," Elrond said, wearing a grimace that was more annoyed than distressed. "However, I must attend to this...issue. When I return, I will explain everything." The two hurried out of the room.

"Yeah, an explanation would be nice," Quinn said to herself, looking down at the weapon in her hand. She held it up to eye level. "Is this thing real?"

At least she had some actual clothes now. Quinn decided to find somewhere to change, so she wasn't walking around looking like the girl from The Ring. She left the library room, heading in the opposite direction from whatever the hell was going on with the dwarves.

She ran into a woman in one of the outdoor hallways. "Uh, do you know where the bathroom is?"

The woman gave her a graceful smile and nodded. "This way."

Quinn followed her, still awkwardly holding her sword and armor. She'd noticed that all the people here were unnaturally beautiful and had _freakishly_ clear skin, which supported her cult theory. That, or this was just one huge prom dress shop and she hadn't found any of the clothing yet.

The woman led her to another hallway with rows of doors. "Here you are."

"Thanks." Quinn chose a random door and tucked her sword under her arm so she could turn the handle.

For a cult headquarters/brainwashing facility/prom dress shop, this place (what had Gandalf called it? Rivendell?) had some nice bathrooms. The room was about the size of the one she'd woken up in and had a toilet, a sink, a mirror and a hot tub-sized bath.

Quinn closed the door and set her armor bundle on the floor. She would get changed in a minute, but the big sharp thing in her hand drew her curiosity. Slowly, she slid the sword from its sheath. Both the scabbard and the handle were black with curvy silver designs. The blade was long, but lighter than she'd expected.

She swung it around a couple times, and then a little harder, so she could hear the air whistle as the blade moved.

"Badass." It would have made a great video—just a silly short of her swinging a sword, acting out a dumb sketch for her viewers. The thought gave her a little jolt back into reality. How long had it been since she'd last uploaded?

Quinn marched towards the mirror, sword still in hand. Besides her hair, how much else had changed?

As soon as she came into view of the glass, the blade slipped from her grasp, clanging hard against the tile floor.

A lot had changed, apparently.

A silent curse fell from her lips—unfamiliar, bow-shaped lips—as she stared into the mirror, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Waking up from what should have been a fatal injury, ending up in a weird fantasy city, being called an ancient warrior—she could handle all of that, mostly. But this new development here was where she drew the line.

Quinn Fleming was in the wrong body.

 **Apologies for how short this chapter is. The next ones will definitely be longer.**

 **And I am certainly open to theories about what Quinn was doing with a selfie stick and a hoverboard when she died ;) Also, I don't know about the places you guys shop for prom dresses, but the one I go to seems to exclusively hire freakishly beautiful people. Just one of many little phenomenons in everyday life.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you want to see what happens next, please drop a comment to let me know. Until next time!**


	2. Joining a Party

**Chapter 2: Joining a Party**

"Wake up. _Wake up_."

Quinn was having a crisis. She stared hard at her new reflection—and _boy_ , was it unfamiliar—and tried to come up with possible explanation that would help her make sense of what she was seeing.

Of course she wasn't dreaming. Quinn knew now that she had died, but as far as afterlives went, this one made no sense. Everyone here had clearly been expecting someone, but that someone wasn't her.

She'd made a stupid mistake, and someone had probably slapped a Darwin Award on her corpse back at home, but that still still didn't explain why she'd ended up here. There were bits and pieces of familiarity, like Gandalf's presence, but the rest of it was frighteningly alien.

Her mind continued in circles like that, ping-ponging between the undeniable fact of her death and the strange reality she'd been forced into.

"Hmm." Quinn bit the inside of her lip, leaning her hands onto her knees as white spots swirled in her vision. No, she was not going to be sick on the bathroom floor of...whatever this place was. Ancient warriors did not get sick.

Suddenly, all of the panic-induced adrenaline rushed to her head, and Quinn stood up straight, her mind racing. A small thread of sense appeared, connecting some of the dots of this strange puzzle.

Maybe this wasn't completely out of left field. She'd made a living playing video games in her past life, and this was exactly how each of them started—the game told you who you were, gave you a weapon, and pushed you into your first battle.

Quinn glanced at the sword and bundle of armor lying on the floor. As starter weapons went, these weren't bad at all.

With her heart still pounding madly, she dressed herself and equipped the sword. The pants, shirt, and boots in the bag were made from a sturdy lightweight material. The armor, made from a dark grey metal, fit her perfectly. Maybe it was supposed to.

All things considered, the person standing in front of the mirror looked like an ancient warrior.

It still kind of sucked that she'd ended up in the wrong body in a weird place instead of wherever she'd possibly been supposed to go. But Quinn wasn't ready to deal with the headache of figuring out which all-powerful deity had screwed this one up.

She'd play along for now. If this world was asking for a hero, then she would give them one.

* * *

Rivendell still looked beautiful and serene when Quinn walked out of the bathroom, despite the fact that she'd just had a life- (or rather, death-) altering realization. With a long sword strapped to her hip and the knowledge that her new body had a six pack, it was a lot easier to move with confidence through the halls.

Elrond had promised her an explanation, but she also wanted to talk to Gandalf, who had mentioned something about a quest. Unfortunately, she didn't know where to find either of them, so she decided to keep walking until she found someone she recognized.

She eventually her way back to the library, and decided to hang there since that was the last place she had seen Elrond. She figured getting some basic information would help before she started signing up for quests and such.

She wandered around for about fifteen minutes before it hit her. _You're in a library, dumbass_. _The pre-Google source of all answers_.

The books all looked pretty old and nondescript, and none of the shelves were labeled, so she pulled the nearest one off a shelf and glanced at the cover. The title was written in a curly script she didn't recognize.

Quinn flipped it open. The rest of it was written in the same language. She shoved the book back onto the shelf and scanned the rest of the bindings. The ones that did have titles were also unintelligible.

Hissing out a curse under her breath, she walked along the shelves. This place was starting to give off asylum vibes again. Or maybe she'd ended up on another planet.

Now, there was a theory. She hadn't even begun to consider the possibility of aliens or virtual reality or body-swapping technology. Maybe this was an Avatar-type situation (blue people, not the airbender).

Quinn was so absorbed in science-fiction theories and trying to read the bindings of the books that she didn't see the person walking in the opposite direction until it was too late.

"Oh." She looked over...and then down. "Sorry about that."

"That's quite all right. I should have been looking where I was going."

Quinn blinked as the...little dude...gave her an embarrassed smile. Weird shit just kept piling up. If she hadn't already known that Elrond was an elf, then she would have guessed that the newcomer was one, with his pointed ears, curly hair, and the fact that his head barely cleared her elbow.

"No worries," she said, then turned back to the shelf. Maybe there were multiple types of elves in this world? Dragon Age elves and Santa's elves?

Elrond really owed her that damn explanation.

Another thought hit her. Everyone here spoke English, so at least some of their books should be in the same language, right? Quinn renewed her search, and after another five shelves of that same curly script, she came across what must have been the English section.

"Bingo." Quinn pulled out a random book and flipped it open. Rows of tiny text detailed what she assumed was the history of a place called Númenor. No pictures. Boring. She put it back.

The rest of the books she looked at were more or less the same. Quinn was just about to give up and ask if Rivendell had Internet access when a word jumped out at her from the size six font. Belekur.

The paragraph detailed what must have been a pretty epic battle before the author had textbook-ified it. Belekur had been one of the combatants against someone named Morgoth and his army. The rest of it went beyond her attention span, so Quinn put the book back.

 _Jesus Christ._ Whoever's identity she'd stolen was in the goddamn history books.

"Belekur. I thought I might find you here."

She turned around to face Gandalf, schooling her features into something a little less panicked. With the wizard was another short dude, though this one didn't look like an elf. He had a beard, for one, and much more serious features. _Definitely_ lacking in Christmas spirit.

"This is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór," Gandalf said, gesturing to his companion.

 _That's a badass name. And I'm stuck being Beckendorf._

Thorin nodded at her, and she returned the gesture.

"He is the leader of the quest to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor," the wizard continued.

"Erebor," Quinn repeated, the same way she would say "asset turnover ratio" when her uncle went on one of his business rants. _Sure thing, I know what you're talking about. Just don't quiz me._

"Their plan is to march upon the mountain and defeat the dragon Smaug. I believe this is the task to which the Valar have assigned you, and if you choose to accept it, then you will join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

 _Badass team name, too_. It seemed the Valar were this world's equivalent of her boss, or board members, or however the hell things worked here. Quinn considered giving them a ring and asking to be deassigned from this whole quest situation.

But something stopped her. She'd never been one to play it safe or take detours in life (did that have anything to do with her dying at twenty three years old? maybe). And there really must have been worse places to end up than in a ripped new body in a magic world with a sword and a quest.

Besides, she kind of wanted to see a dragon in person.

"I accept," Quinn said, and a thrill of excitement ran through her body. She tried not to let it show, simply crossing her arms and standing straight. "When do we start?"

Gandalf looked like he'd just won a bet, while Thorin merely raised one eyebrow. "I will let Thorin introduce you to the others," the wizard said. "I must inform Lord Elrond of your decision." He left the library.

She'd heard Gandalf and Elrond talking about dragons and quests after she'd first woken up, and it hadn't sounded like they'd been fully in agreement. Apparently there was some controversy surrounding this quest, and she'd unwittingly stepped in the midst of it.

Quinn was brought back to the present as Thorin gestured for her to follow him out of the library. He didn't say a word as they began walking through the outdoor halls of Rivendell, and that made her both nervous and relieved. It was hard to get a read on him, which she wanted to do as quickly as possible if he was going to be the one leading this quest. But at the same time, she hadn't missed the critical glance he'd given her in the library—if _he_ got a read on _her_ and realized she wasn't actually an ancient warrior, things could get messy.

A chorus of low voices made her look up. They had entered a courtyard where a group of people were either standing and talking to each other or sharpening weapons.

 _Jesus, I feel like I'm visiting my old elementary school again_ , Quinn thought, noting how she stood head and shoulders above the whole group.

None of them looked like they belonged in elementary school, though. Each had a beard, some of them intricately braided, and had the look of people who were used to toughing it out in the wild. Maybe elementary school for Vikings.

Vikings…or dwarves. It finally clicked—they had the looks and the height down, and if there were elves in this world, dwarves only made sense as well.

As they approached, the group turned and looked her over, their conversations falling silent. Quinn felt her skin prickle as a dozen pairs of skeptical eyes fell on her. She locked her eyes on the other side of the courtyard, crossing her arms again.

"This is the ancient warrior Gandalf mentioned," Thorin said to the group. He then addressed her and named each of the dwarves: Fíli, Nori, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Óin, Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Glóin, Bifur, and Kíli.

The string of names was immediately followed by an internal string of curses on Quinn's part. She was never going to be able to remember those names. It would take a week tops for her to fully comprehend the designs of their beards alone. And it didn't help that half the names rhymed. The hell was that about?

 _Play it cool._

"I am Belekur," Quinn said, hoping she didn't stumble too obviously around the syllables of her new name. "And I will be assisting your quest."

She tried not to cringe. She'd been going for short and sweet, but it had come out sounding like a call center worker. It didn't seem like the dwarves would know what a call center was, though, so hopefully she'd get a pass on that one.

They continued to stare at her, though some curiosity was mingled in with their suspicion. Quinn tried not to fidget.

Eventually, Thorin said, "Very well. We'll be departing tonight. Meet us in this courtyard at midnight tonight."

There was an unspoken dismissal tacked onto the end of that sentence, so Quinn gave a stoic nod, only just stopping herself from saluting too, and left the area. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she needed to keep walking.

Her face felt red and flushed, but when she reached a clear pool of water and peered down, her skin looked normal. The panic in her eyes was very obvious, however. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield looked tough as hell, and she had no idea how she was supposed to keep up—with them, and the pretense of being an ancient warrior. Signing up for this quest had not been a good idea.

And, like a dumbass, she'd gone through with it anyway.

Quinn glared at her unfamiliar reflection for the second time that day.

 _Congratulations. You played yourself._

 **Yeah, I ended this chapter with a DJ Khaled quote. It's going to be that type of fic.** _  
_ **I was a little hesitant about posting this fic because I'm not sure how many readers for The Hobbit category play video games and will get the references that I make. If you've read any of my other works, you'll know most of them are inspired by video games, and hopefully I'm not alone in that demographic…**

 **Thanks a bunch to Guest, ZentangledFox15, and MaggYme for reviewing! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought. Until next time!**


	3. Choices and Interactions

**Chapter 3**

When Elrond finally caught sight of Quinn, she had a sudden urge to duck out of sight. It wouldn't have done much, since the elf was already walking towards her, and the potted plant—her preferred hiding spot—wouldn't have provided much in the way of coverage. But the meeting with the dwarves had thrown her off, and the last thing she wanted to do was interact with someone else who thought she was an ancient fucking warrior.

"Belekur." Elrond nodded to her as he approached. "I apologize for the…disturbance earlier. Dwarves are not known for being the most well-behaved guests."

Quinn raised her eyebrows at that. Thorin's dwarves had been the ones wreaking havoc earlier? Go figure.

"I believe I owe you an explanation," he continued, and she began to nod vigorously before catching herself.

"My memories are not entirely clear regarding my…purpose here. And my past." And about a thousand other things, but she was going to start small.

Elrond nodded. "I understand your transition to this world was not an easy one. Your memories will come back to you in time." He started walking and gestured for her to follow. "You, Belekur, come from a group of ancient warriors from a realm apart from our own. Your duty is to protect the Free Peoples of Middle Earth from those that would do them harm. Gandalf believes that your mission is to help the dwarves reclaim their kingdom in the east."

Though she knew he wouldn't be happy about it, Quinn decided to just break the news. "I've already met their leader and agreed to join their quest."

"Yes, I've been informed," Elrond said with a barely-concealed grimace.

"What do you believe my mission is, if not that?" Quinn asked. If she had talked to Elrond before Gandalf, would she have signed up for a different quest instead?

"Before your arrival, I believed these lands were at peace. But ancient warriors are only ever sent to us in times of need." He fell silent for a moment, as if considering his next words. "I worry that the Quest of Thorin Oakenshield will only bring more strife to these lands."

"How so?"

"If Smaug is disturbed, all living in the mountain's shadow will suffer his wrath. The great wealth of Erebor will lie unguarded once more, and many will seek it." Elrond's voice grew somber. "A great sickness lies upon that treasure. Thorin's bloodline is especially susceptible to it."

"What sort of sickness?" Was the gold radioactive? Quinn tried to imagine a dragon turned radioactive from the gold, and somehow that only made her more excited to fight it (and a little turned on).

"A fierce and jealous greed affects those who possess a dragon's wealth. And this may prove dangerous for all."

They stopped walking, and Quinn took a deep breath. Elrond's explanation had only made the quest sound simpler. Kill the (unfortunately non-radioactive) dragon and teach Thorin that sharing is caring. Standard quest fare. She looked the elf in the eyes and said, "My duty as an ancient warrior is to slay the dragon, so you don't need to worry about that. And as for this sickness, I will do everything in my power to fight it, and help others do the same."

She thought that sounded pretty good, and apparently Elrond did too—something in his eyes softened and he nodded.

"Then the Quest of Thorin Oakenshield is in good hands." He clasped her on the shoulder and left her there.

And Quinn found herself beaming as she went back to her room. Her talk with Elrond had renewed some of her confidence. If anything, fighting a regular dragon was probably easier than fighting a radioactive one.

She would be ready. She wasn't now, but she would be.

* * *

Thing Number Seventy Eight this world was missing: alarm clocks. Quinn woke to a banging on her door and inwardly cursed. Turns out she was even _less_ ready than she'd thought. She nearly fell out of bed and went to open the door.

The dwarf standing on the other side of the door was balding, and looked like he could win a bar fight in ten seconds, but she was blanking on the name. He did look pretty pissed, though, and she was able to make the short jump from that to the fact that she'd overslept for her first day on the job.

Or night, rather. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the room, and the entire hallway was silent. Quinn stifled a yawn. Thorin had said to meet at midnight, so it must have been a little later than that.

"Everyone's waiting," the dwarf said, confirming her suspicions.

"Give me a second and I'll join you," she said, then closed the door. She would have left it open, but she didn't want any witnesses while she tried to remember how to put her sword on her belt.

Quinn sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots. Should she have spoken differently? Everyone here talked like they were in a fantasy world, and she still hadn't quite gotten the lingo down.

She stood up and started wrestling with her sword. "I shalt meet thou in yon courtyard in but a moment," she muttered to herself. "God dammit."

She couldn't keep that shit up without sounding like an absolute idiot. For now she'd just focus on staying away from contractions.

After what she hoped wasn't too long, Quinn figured out the rest of her armor and stepped outside. Apparently the dwarf hadn't waited for her outside the room, so she walked alone down the hallway to the courtyard where they were supposed to meet. At night, Rivendell was lit by a few glowing lamps that didn't look like fire or electricity—yet another thing she couldn't quite make sense of.

Just as the dwarf had said, everyone was waiting in the courtyard when she arrived. They were all packed and ready to go, and a few stood up as she entered. Quinn still hadn't figured out why they were leaving at _midnight_ of all times, unless they had a two AM flight to catch.

The little dude she'd bumped into at the library earlier was also there, and they regarded each other with a mutual look of _What are you doing here?_ before Quinn turned to Thorin, who looked just as impatient as his balding companion.

"Ready?"

 _That is a loaded, question, buddy._ Even after her talk with Elrond, the dwarves still made her nervous. The way they looked at her made self-doubt creep back into her stomach, like they were waiting for her to mess up.

But being ready was the only way to keep going. So Quinn nodded, her mouth in a straight line, and followed the dwarves as they marched out of the courtyard.

Hopefully this quest would start with the easy stuff.

* * *

The first week outside of Rivendell was easy enough. It mainly consisted of walking, and the others were content to keep to themselves, so Quinn had a lot of time to think and observe.

They took a narrow, steep path out of the valley, which would have left her completely out of breath in her old body. From there they traveled along rocky ridges, below towering cliffs, along vast plains dotted with shrubs. Quinn had never been one for hiking, but she had to admit the views were pretty awesome.

Sometimes she listened in on the conversations between the other dwarves, and managed to actually put some names to faces. Bombur was the dwarf with a really confusing beard that somehow looped around in one continuous braid, who always managed to cook up some good food out of only a few ingredients. His brother, Bofur, had an awesome hat and seemed to always be in a good mood. Nori seemed like the nerdy type who was always writing in his journal. Or was that Ori?

Eh. She'd get it eventually.

That is, if she didn't go insane first. Keeping to herself with only her thoughts to keep her company was starting to get old. If there was one thing Quinn loved, it was talking, and a constant internal monologue wasn't the same as having an audience. There wasn't anything to keep her mind off it, either—the landscape around them, while majestic, didn't provide much in the way of entertainment.

There was only one exception to that. Quinn had spent her whole life near the city, and there had never been much of a point in looking up at night. So the first time she tilted her head towards the night sky of this world, she'd been blown away.

Someone had pasted a NASA photograph up above, and it was HD as hell. Quinn had never seen more than a handful of stars at a time, but here there must have been _thousands_. Now she understood how ancient civilizations had seen pictures in the stars.

Some nights she would lie awake with her hands propping her head up and trace the lights with her eyes, trying to find patterns and making up her own horoscopes. The endless detail kept her mind occupied when the thoughts in her head started to bounce around a little too fast.

The stars were nice, but Quinn still wished for some action the daytime. She prayed to her made-up horoscope Langkspliten that something would happen soon.

Maybe she'd get to use her cool new sword.

* * *

It seemed this world was intent on making her take it _very_ easy at first, because when something interesting did happen, Quinn didn't even have to draw her weapon.

It started with them getting lost for the fifth time.

She would have thought that navigating a wild landscape would be more or less a straight shot through, but apparently the dwarves were having trouble navigating the paths on their map. Some led them to rocky slopes that were too steep and dangerous to climb, or dead ends in valleys that were obviously impassible. She lost count of the number of times they'd had to retrace their steps.

"This route should take us to the High Pass," one of the older dwarves said to Thorin one day. He traced the path with one finger. "This map is old, but this one should be relatively unchanged."

Quinn peeked over his shoulder at the map, curious. The map was worn and faded in places, but had a decent amount of detail.

"To reach that path, we'd have to backtrack to here," Thorin pointed to a spot west of where they were. "We'll lose half a day."

She looked up from the map to their surroundings, trying to match where they were to the map. They were stopped in the middle of a gully, the walls steep on either side, and on the other end she could see a sudden drop as the path curved north along the top of a cliff. She glanced at the map again. If they continued on, the path would lead them closer to the road leading to the High Pass.

"We could keep following this path," Quinn said, making both dwarves turn. She focused her gaze on the map, discomfort prickling on her neck. No doubt her speaking had surprised the dwarves as much as it surprised her. "It would lead us along the cliff, but it would be a shorter route."

The elderly dwarf looked back down at the map. "I've not known the cliffside paths to be entirely safe."

"But it will save us time, yes?" Thorin asked, looking at the paper as well.

"Aye, if we make it through."

"Then we continue this way." He gave Quinn a brief nod and directed the group of keep walking.

She mentally high-fived herself as they moved on. Maybe they weren't up to the monster-slaying part yet, but it still felt nice to do something useful for the group.

Or, at least, it felt nice until things started to go wrong.

Their walk along the cliff was mostly uneventful. It was a long way down if one of them fell, but the ground was sturdy enough beneath their feet. Up ahead, Quinn could see the path that would lead them closer to their destination. A small valley lay in their path, but it wouldn't take too long to walk around.

Cutting around the valley was when Quinn understood the dwarf's warnings about unsafe paths and such. They were walking along a gravelly section when a crackling, sliding sound came from beneath their feet.

"Get away from the edge!" Thorin said as the path began to move.

They all backed away, some pulling each other away from the sliding gravel. One of the dwarves stumbled as the rocks beneath his feet slithered like water down the incline, and he too began to slide towards the edge.

"Oh, shit." Quinn was frozen in place, watching the scene as one would a train wreck, until a small voice in the back of her head said, _Do something!_

And that was the only thought that crossed her mind as she leaped forward with more speed than she would have thought herself capable. She grabbed the dwarf's arm and helped him stand up. Unfortunately, this meant that she was also standing in the danger zone, and the rocks began to slide faster as they struggled to keep their balance.

A gray-haired dwarf stepped forward, reaching for her arm, but his fist closed around thin air. The rest of the dwarves disappeared from sight as the two of them slipped over the edge.

Quinn let out a strangled gasp, only barely stopping herself from letting out a long, loud curse. That didn't seem very ancient-warrior-like. She was doing a decent job of keeping her balance until the side of her foot struck solid rock, and the momentum pitched her head over heels down the slope. She'd lost her grip on the dwarf's arm, but she caught flashes of him tumbling next to her.

After a few moments of painful rolling, her body finally stopped. She winced as a pile of gravel crashed onto her body, the little stones digging into her exposed skin.

"Ugh…" Quinn spat out some dirt and pushed herself up, gravel rolling off her back and arms. She turned to the dwarf and helped him stand up as well.

"Are you all right?" The call came from one of the dwarves above, and she looked up to see a dozen concerned heads peeking over the cliffside at them.

She almost gave them a thumbs up. "We're fine." At least, she was. Quinn glanced down at the dwarf next to her. Besides some dirt in his hair and a couple scrapes, he seemed unhurt. She lifted her eyes to their surroundings. They'd fallen to the bottom of the slope. "We'll…We will try to make our way back up to you."

"Head east," Thorin said. "We'll look for you at the other end of the valley."

Quinn let out a long, slow breath as the rest of the group continued walking. Now that the brief fear of breaking something or dying was out of the way, she felt pretty pumped. Finally, some action. She turned to the dwarf. "Ready to go?"

He adjusted his bow and sword and nodded. They continued on in silence for a while, crunching through the rest of the gravel slope, then heading into a dense cluster of trees.

"Thank you," he said as they walked. "For trying to help me back there."

Quinn paused in pushing aside a tree branch and glanced back at him. She knew he had a brother in the group, and they were so close that she hadn't quite figured out which one was Fíli and which one was Kíli. The two seemed pretty cool, but like the rest of the group, they were reluctant to talk to her.

She took a moment to gather her words so they were comprehensible to someone from a fantasy world. "Think nothing of it. I only wish I'd been able to keep us both at the top of the cliff."

"Well, that can't be helped now." He picked up his pace so they were walking side by side. Quinn remembered her legs were a lot longer and slowed down a little. They continued on in silence for a while longer, before the dwarf broke it again.

"Can I ask you something?"

 _Uh oh_. "Go on."

"Why did you join this quest?"

That was a pretty easy answer. "My duty is to protect the people of this land."

She could tell by his silence that he wasn't entirely satisfied with her answer. "And you're doing that by helping a group of dwarves?"

The question threw her off a little. Quinn assumed that the dragon they were setting off to kill was dangerous, and killing it would save the village or something. A dragon seemed like a pretty big deal, anyway. And it wasn't like she had any other quests on her to-do list.

But the dwarf hadn't asked her about killing the dragon—he'd asked her about who she was helping to do it. From his tone, it almost sounded like working with dwarves was out of the ordinary.

 _God dammit. If this fantasy world has a race problem, I am staying the hell out of it_. "The dragon needs to be killed. It doesn't matter how it's done."

Was she allowed to say that? Did ancient warriors have a code or something? Quinn really wished Elrond had given her a manual along with her sword and armor.

"I see." He seemed a little bummed out by her answer, and she mentally kicked herself. Even if she was playing the role of a hard-ass warrior, she didn't want to bum people out.

"It matters that I work with people who have honor, courage, and bravery." _Shit. Courage and bravery mean the same thing. Talking was a bad idea, Quinn, bad idea._

If the dwarf noticed her mistake, he didn't say anything. "Then you'll find yourself in good company, Master Belekur."

"Good," she said, then shut her mouth. She focused her energy on hoisting herself onto a rock in their path, hoping he wouldn't continue their conversation.

The dwarf, however, just seemed to be getting started. He accepted her hand as she helped him up onto the rock and said, "You know, I don't know much about ancient warriors. Fíli and I heard stories as children, but they were more about the battles themselves."

Quinn made a mental note that this one was Kíli, then tucked that away for later as she tried to figure out how to respond. This was the moment of truth—if she messed up, the whole thing could fall apart. She had nothing to go on for now, so she would just have to make it up as she went along.

"What is it you want to know?" She would let Kíli guide the conversation for now, and hopefully keep the bullshit to a minimum.

He gave a curious look out of the corner of his eye. "You are said to have fought in battles that took place thousands of years ago, but you still look…young. Are you immortal like the elves?"

 _Good question. What the hell am I?_ She didn't have the pointed ears and slight build of elves. And if she was human, how could she be thousands of years old?

"I'm not immortal, exactly," Quinn said, stalling. Then she remembered one of the first theories she'd come up with after waking up. _Forgive me, Stan Lee_. "Ancient warriors start out as regular humans, but we are given a serum that enhances our strength and gives us longer lifespans. When we're not helping to save the world, the Valar put us in cryosleep."

Kíli's eyes had widened as she spoke, and he asked, "What is cryosleep?"

He seemed to be believing her, so Quinn decided to just go along with it. "We are encased in ice and put into a deep sleep."

After a long pause, Kíli said, "So you spend your life fighting battles."

"Yes." That was kind of a bummer, now that she thought about it. Maybe she should have said that ancient warriors spent their down time playing cards in Valhalla or something. "It's what we're meant to do."

They didn't speak much after that, instead focusing on climbing as the path out of the valley became much steeper. At times, they were scaling near-vertical slopes to try and meet up with the rest of the group.

Quinn realized that she wasn't as on-edge anymore. Being able to successfully bullshit her way though a conversation as an ancient warrior had given her a little more confidence. And Kíli didn't have a judgmental vibe at all, which helped too.

Maybe pretending to be a hero wouldn't be so hard after all.

 **So how long do you think Quinn's going to be able to keep up this charade? Place your bets now, folks!**

 **Thanks a ton to ZentangledFox15, SortingHat, MaggYme, drwatsonn, and jerriboberri for the feedback. Nice comments warm my heart, and I am definitely open to criticism as well! So feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this chapter.**

 **Stay tuned for the next update!**


	4. Delusion Level 2

**Chapter 4: Delusion Level 2**

When they finally climbed out of the valley, the rest of the group was waiting at the top. Fíli was the first to reach them, striding forward to help his brother up as they scaled a rocky slope that led back to the path.

"All right, there?" he clapped Kíli on the arm and helped him to his feet.

Quinn pushed herself up as the rest of the Company approached them. "Did we keep you waiting for long?" She briefly remembered her 'no talking' rule, then decided to scrap it altogether. She'd gotten through one conversation—how hard could it be to get through a few more?

"We haven't been waiting long," Thorin said, then gestured with his head for everyone to start moving again. "The High Pass is this way. Come on."

 _Geez. This guy is just non-stop_. Quinn began walking with the others. _You'd think he couldn't wait to fight the dragon or something._

* * *

That night, Quinn's talkative tendencies came back to bite her. She had just come back from checking the perimeter (which really just meant walking in a circle around the camp) when Kíli waved at her.

"Master Belekur! Will you come sit with us?"

 _Why do I feel like the popular kids just invited me to sit at their lunch table?_ She tried not to drag her feet as she walked over and took a seat next to the fire. A one-on-one conversation was fine, but as soon as she sat down, it began to feel a little more like an interrogation session. Fíli, Kíli, the old dwarf, the little dude, and the nerd were seated around the fire. The bald one was sharpening his axes a little ways off, but she could tell he was listening in on the conversation.

Quinn sat with them and took a deep breath. _Ancient warrior. Okay. Let's get some Geralt of Rivia vibes over here._ "What can I do for you?"

At first no one said anything, and a nervous jolt made her clench her teeth. Had she said something wrong?

"Uh, well—" Kíli said, then glanced at his brother. "We were just wondering if you could tell us more about…ancient warriors."

She realized that the whole group was looking at her with various levels of wariness. Did she make them nervous?

Quinn almost rolled her eyes. The dwarves all looked like they wrestled bears in the snow before breakfast, and she made them _nervous_? Fíli had two goddamn swords. That was twice as many as she did.

She wanted to tell them that she was just as human—well, bad choice of words—just as much of a person as them. But she didn't want them getting too familiar, so she leaned back and said, "Tell me what you want to know, and I'll answer to the best of my ability."

There was another moment of awkward silence and everyone glanced around, unsure as to who was going to be the first to ask. Then one of them raised his hand, notebook already poised as if he was about to take notes (god, he really did look like a high school nerd), and asked, "What are the other ancient warriors like?"

 _Shit. Right. I'm supposed to have colleagues_. Quinn scrambled for the first group of names she could think of and said, "There are five of us, including myself. The others are named Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Leonardo."

"Just like there are five wizards," the little dude said.

"Right." Quinn didn't know if there was some sort of significance to that, so she just nodded and said, "Five is an important number." _Whatever that means_. She decided to keep running with the ninja turtles theme. "Each of us has a different color. Mine is black and gray, as you can see." She gestured to her armor. "The others are orange, red, purple, and blue."

Everyone stared at her. The balding dwarf paused in his axe-sharpening. Quinn bit down on her tongue. Why would they care that they wore different colors? She was ninety-nine percent sure the dwarves didn't even know about the Power Rangers.

Her doubts were confirmed when the elderly dwarf asked, "And, ah, what is the significance of these different colors?"

Quinn said the first thing that came to mind. "They are significant. Because. It helps to distinguish us. Because all ancient warriors look exactly the same."

At this, everyone's eyes went wide. The nerdy dwarf was scribbling rapidly in his notebook. She was surprised that he hadn't asked if any of this was going to be on the quiz.

"You mean…" Fíli tilted his head, making his mustache braids swing. Quinn wondered if those ever got in the way of like…his life. "You're all identical."

"Indeed," she said, trying not to fidget. She was digging herself deep with this.

Before she could think of a believable way to bail herself out of the conversation, the balding dwarf turned towards their group. "And what about that blade, eh? I've heard the prowess of ancient warriors in battle is legendary."

At this, Fíli and Kíli's eyes lit up, while Quinn considered sinking completely into the metaphorical hole she'd dug for herself. _Fucking hell no. I even draw this thing and it'll be a dead giveaway._

"If you're interested in battles, I could tell you about the…Battle of Splinter Hill." _Nope. I need to get out of here_. Ancient warriors were fast, right? If she ran, there was no way they'd be able to catch up to her on those short legs.

She could have sworn the dwarf was on to her by the way his eyes gleamed as he said, "I was rather thinking you could give us a demonstration."

"A demonstration," Quinn repeated. _Please go back to being intimidated by me_.

Surprisingly, it was Fíli who gave her an out. "If you're in need of a sparring partner, I'd be willing to volunteer."

She could work with that. Quinn shook her head. "It is against the ancient warrior code to cross swords with an ally, even in training."

The balding dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you train?"

"We use autobots." Quinn was pretty sure at this point that none of the dwarves knew enough to fact-check her, so she didn't feel such a need to hesitate before answering. "They're not living beings, so they cannot be our allies, but they fight well enough to challenge our skills."

Kíli's brow furrowed. "Like training dummies?"

"Exactly." Quinn nodded. "But they are enchanted to move and fight."

Everyone nodded in understanding, and the balding dwarf turned back to his axes. She let out a small sigh. _That wasn't so bad_. Quinn was starting to think she could actually pull this off.

Though hopefully she wouldn't have to draw her weapon any time soon.

* * *

The next day, the dwarves went back to leaving her alone. Quinn was more than fine with that—the issue of the sword on her belt was starting to weigh on her mind more and more.

She would have to fight eventually. At the latest, it would be when they reached the dragon, but there was the possibility they'd run into something earlier. She half-hoped they would, since that would at least afford her some practice, but practicing would also alert the dwarves to the fact that she was a fake.

So that wasn't an option, but if she waited until the dragon, she'd end up being its lunch.

And then she'd die again and probably end up in Narnia.

The High Pass loomed up ahead, a narrow break in a towering wall of rock. It was certainly very high, she thought with a grimace as the group struggled up the stony incline. This was the most level path they could take to get to the pass, but this definitely counted as Leg Day.

At least the larger rocks made for better footholds. Quinn was not looking for a repeat of the gravel sliding incident she'd had with Kíli earlier.

It seemed that was not meant to be, though. Even as the thought crossed her mind, everyone turned around as someone yelped in surprise. The little dude had lost his balance, and Quinn inwardly winced as he tumbled backwards, doing a full head-over-heels roll before landing roughly on his stomach a little ways down the incline.

 _Holy shit. That looked like it hurt_. She took a half-step towards him, hoping his neck wasn't broken. Thankfully it wasn't, and once the dwarves realized that, they made to keep walking.

"I suggest you keep up, Master Baggins," Thorin said before turning and leading the rest of the group onwards.

The little dude stood up and brushed himself off, the tips of his pointy ears turning red. Quinn immediately felt bad for him, so she made her way down the incline and stooped to pick up the couple of packages of food that had fallen out of his pack.

"Here." She handed them to him, and he blinked up at her in surprise.

"O-Oh. Thank you."

They began walking again, and she gestured for him to use a sturdier part of the path.

In the weeks that they'd been traveling, Quinn had noticed that Master Baggins, as was apparently his name, seemed just as out of his depth as she was. He was usually at the back of the group, didn't know how to traverse the terrain (case in point) and was only carrying a knife as a weapon—though it looked like a sword on his tiny body. On top of all of that, Thorin usually took these opportunities to roast the poor guy for not having his act together.

He wasn't exactly having the same problems as her, but she felt that the clueless misfits of the group should look out for each other anyway.

"Are you hurt at all?" she asked.

"No, I-I'm fine. You needn't worry about me."

That was funny, coming from a guy who had just gotten judo flipped by a hill. But there was one thing that genuinely worried Quinn, and she couldn't help but ask, "Why aren't you wearing shoes?" His feet were pretty big for his height and weirdly hairy, so maybe they didn't carry any in his size. But couldn't he have had some custom made at some point?

Master Baggins just shrugged, like there was no tragic backstory behind his lack of shoes. "Oh, hobbits don't wear shoes."

That only confused her more. What the hell was a hobbit? Was that the medical term for people with that specific feet deformity? Or maybe that was the name for the "small elf" that he seemed to be. Cautiously, Quinn said, "I don't know much about hobbits."

"I don't suppose you would. We tend to keep to ourselves in the Shire. There haven't been any great battles there—at least, not while any hobbits lived in that area."

"Why haven't there been any battles?"

"Well, hobbits are a quiet folk, so we don't tend to go out and start wars with anyone. The rangers help keep our borders safe." He shrugged and gave a wry smile. "We're not too experienced when it comes to adventures and quests and the like."

Quinn frowned at that. "Then why are you out here?" _Oh god, did the dwarves kidnap him_? She fixed him with a serious stare. "Do you need help?"

"I—uh…" The little dude blinked rapidly at her.

She glanced up to see if the dwarves were close enough to listen in, but they were far ahead. She turned back to him. "Answer me honestly. Do you need help?"

"I-I mean, I'm all right for the moment. Thank you for picking up my belongings earlier." He broke eye contact, arms swinging awkwardly at his sides. "And to answer your earlier question, I suppose it was mostly an impulse decision. Part of me has always wanted to see the world, and this may be my only chance to do it."

Quinn nodded. His answer seemed legit, and she couldn't really see the dwarves as kidnappers anyway. "All right. But remember—my duty is to protect everyone in this group." She raised her eyebrows for emphasis. "I mean _everyone_."

He nodded, a small smile growing on his face. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

And Quinn started to feel a little more like a hero.

 **Must! Resist! The urge to type Bilbo instead of "little dude!" I'm so used to writing him it's hard to switch to an outsider's perspective. And for those of you who are irritated at Quinn's dumb nicknames for the dwarves, she'll learn all of their names eventually. And then give them more appropriate dumb nicknames.**

 **Sidenote: I know that the Battle of Greenfields was fought in the Shire, so technically it has seen battle, but Bilbo doesn't it consider it to be big enough to warrant an ancient warrior. For those of you who are nitpicky about lore like I am ;)**

 **Any guesses as to who will be the first to find out who Quinn really is? It's coming next chapter. I'm done with school for now so updates should be more frequent.**

 **Huge thanks to Aigo Snape, justsexwithmonika, jerriboberri, ZentangledFox15, and Padme4000 for the lovely reviews. You guys really brighten my day! And feel free to leave a comment here letting me know what you liked/disliked and what you think is going to happen next. Stay tuned for more updates!**


	5. Colossi

**Chapter 5: Colossi**

"This is no thunderstorm. It's a thunder battle! Look!"

Quinn had once been to an eSports competition called Thunder Battle. She wondered what a bunch of twenty-something nerds with carpal tunnel were doing on the side of a cliff in the middle of a thunderstorm. Then she turned around.

Her first thought: _When did we end up in Shadow of the Colossus?_

Her second thought: _HOLY FUCK IT'S THROWING A BOULDER AT US!_

A huge chunk of rock crashed into the cliff above their heads, raining down in large shards and pelting the group below.

Through sheets of rain, they watched as the massive humanoid rock stood up and broke another hunk of stone from the opposite cliffside.

"Well, bless me!" Bofur said. "They're giants! Stone giants!"

The stone giant cocked one arm back and hurled the boulder in its hand, though this one missed them completely. Quinn turned her head to follow its arc, brushing a few soaked strands of hair out of her face. The rock sailed through the air, flying towards—

 _Oh my god, there's two of them._

Lightning flashed, illuminating the jagged features of another giant. Its whole body jerked as the boulder smashed into its face, and as it fell back against the mountainside, the impact made the whole cliff rumble.

"Watch out!"

They pressed back against the rock as more bits of stone rained down. A particularly large chunk hit the edge of the cliff in front of Quinn's feet, and she watched in horror as it crumbled away.

 _Take me back to that muggy hotel room where I was fighting normal-sized men in Super Smash Brothers_.

The cliffside rumbled again, and she trembled in place, trying to keep her balance on the slippery stone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fíli lunge forward, one hand outstretched towards his brother.

"Take my hand!"

Quinn reached out and pulled him back as he almost lost his balance. _No more fucking falling_. Then she realized Kíli was moving away from them, and that the gap in the rock was rapidly widening. Squinting against the rain, she looked up and saw that the cliffside was spreading apart, and farther up, another jagged shape was emerging from the fog.

They were standing on the giant's legs.

Desperately, Quinn tried to remember how to beat one of these things in _Shadow of the Colossus_. There were marks she had to hit, but there was no way she could see anything in this rain. From her position, she could barely see any of the giant's body anyway.

Another one of the behemoths approached them and got in a hit that had the giant staggering against the mountainside. It took another swing that hit its leg and nearly smeared the Company across the rock. Their giant retaliated by clocking the first one across his rocky jaw, sending him flying back against the opposite cliffside.

Their giant was winning. That was a good thing, wasn't it?

Out of nowhere, another boulder smashed into where the giant's face would have been, and a massive tremor shook them so hard Quinn felt her teeth rattle in her head. She reached out to brace Bofur on her other side as one of his feet slipped. The whole leg lurched and began to swing to one side, making her stomach swoop. She risked another glance up and wondered where the giant's head had gone.

For a brief moment, they were facing the other half of the Company, who had somehow managed to make it onto solid ground again. Quinn had a demented urge to wave at them as they passed.

The leg jolted again, then began to tilt forward. She scrambled against the slippery stone, trying to keep her balance. Up ahead, the cliffside was rushing towards them with terrifying speed.

 _Hail Mary full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the—_

Pain split her forehead and filled her vision with stars. Quinn let out a jagged gasp, and some rainwater ran into her mouth. She mumbled a curse and moved slippery palms against the rock beneath her, trying to get up. Something was weighing on her legs, preventing her from standing.

"S-Sorry, Master Belekur," came Fíli's voice from behind, and the weight lifted.

She gripped a rock and stood up on shaky legs. The rainwater in her mouth tasted metallic for some reason.

"No! Fíli!" Thorin burst onto the scene, gripping his axe with white knuckles. His shoulders sagged in relief as he registered that they were all alive and mostly well.

Almost automatically, Quinn reached out to help the balding dwarf stand up, and earned a grunt for her efforts. There was a strange ringing in her ears that was muffling the voices of the others. It took Fíli gripping her arm and shaking it for her to finally turn his way.

"Huh?"

"Are you all right? You're bleeding." He gestured to his forehead.

Quinn copied his movement and her fingers came away covered in red, which soon faded as rain fell on her hands.

"Where's Bilbo?"

"There!"

They both turned towards a commotion at the edge of the cliff. Bofur and the nerd were on their stomachs, shouting something down the cliff. Belatedly, Quinn realized what was happening and started towards the edge.

Looking annoyed, Thorin leapt off the cliff. She stopped short in her tracks. _What the hell? How hard did I hit my head?_

Moments later, Bilbo's pale face appeared and the nerd and Bofur dragged him back to safety. All three collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily.

The balding dwarf reached down and helped Thorin up as well. "I thought we'd lost our burglar."

Thorin stood up and turned to glare at Bilbo. "He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us." With that, he turned and entered a nearby cave.

Quinn wiped some more blood off her face and followed the others into the narrow opening.

The cave was decent-sized, with enough room for thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and an ancient warrior if they didn't mind getting cozy. The floor was covered in sand, which stuck to her wet boots as she walked.

"Belekur. Dwalin." Thorin nodded to each of them. "Search to the back. Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied."

Dwalin lit a lantern and searched one corner, while Quinn took her 20/20 Ancient Warrior vision and set off down another branch of the cave. Once she was out of sight of the others, she squatted down with her back against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

That whole incident had been absolutely terrifying. Her heart was still pounding and the white sparks in her vision and ringing in her ears went in and out. She mumbled a few curses and rubbed her numb cheeks. And her fucking face was still bleeding.

This wasn't cool. This wasn't cool _at all_. Quinn had been fine with walking and camping and even falling down moderately-inclined slopes. But standing on the legs of a stone giant and then smashing her head against a mountain was too high of a level for her. She'd just stared death in the face, and it had flipped her the bird. At this point, she was seriously considering picking an easier quest.

Dying had sucked the first time. She didn't want to do it again.

Quinn fought to keep her voice steady as she rejoined the others. "Nothing back here."

No sooner had she stepped into the area than one of the older dwarves beckoned her over. "Let me have a look at your forehead, Master Belekur."

She walked over to him and sat down so he could reach her face. He wiped off most of the blood before applying a liquid that stung and nearly made her wince.

"Not too deep, fortunately," the dwarf said. "I'd still better stitch it up, though."

"All right." Quinn kept her head still as he took care of her wound. She felt a little bad about accepting his help since she was about to leave, but she wasn't sure how long her head was supposed to bleed. It would be cool if ancient warriors had a healing factor, but she didn't know for sure, and was in no way planning on testing that out.

 _It's all good_ , she told herself. _Just go back to Rivendell and ask for another, smaller dragon to beat. Preferably one that's a little easier to get to._

That night, Quinn went out for a supposed "pee break." Everyone was asleep (even Bofur, who was supposed to be on watch), so she didn't even need the excuse.

That is, until she went outside and happened upon someone else. He whipped around at the sound of her footsteps and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Master Baggins?" It occurred to her that he looked more guilty than she felt, so she decided to start asking questions before he could. "What are you doing?"

"I'm uh…" He shifted the straps of his pack on his shoulders and cleared his throat.

Quinn raised her eyebrows. If he was carrying his pack, did that mean he was leaving too?

He straightened up. "I-I'm going back to Rivendell. Thorin was right. I don't belong here, and I never should have come."

She was silent for a moment, digesting this information and reevaluating her plan. Finally, she said, "Sweet, can I come with you?"

His mouth fell open and he blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry?"

 _Screw it._ She took a seat on the ledge and gestured for him to follow. "Sit with me. I gotta get this off my chest. There is a _lot_ I have to tell you."

* * *

"So when I finally woke up, I realized I'd been trying to make grilled cheese in my toaster, but it kept popping out sideways once it was done, so there were, like, twenty melted Kraft singles on my kitchen floor. And that is the story of the first time I had an edible and got weird stains on my floor."

Master Baggins stared at her for a full minute, then finally shook his head and said, "But what does that have to do with...what you were talking about before?"

"Nothing, really." Quinn shrugged. "I guess I kind of got off topic. The point is, I'm not an ancient warrior, I somehow ended up in a different, ethnically ambiguous body, and I have literally no idea what I'm doing."

"And w-why are you telling me this now?"

She began shaking her head. "I'm freaking out, man. This shit is dangerous. I wanna dip with you."

"Dip?"

"Bounce. Book it. Leave," she said, and his confused expression finally cleared up. "I can't do this hero thing anymore. We almost died from those rock giants."

He nodded. "Well, I can certainly understand that."

Quinn smiled and gave him a light punch on the arm. "You know, I feel like we're kind of kindred spirits. Just two little guys, one much smaller than the other, trying to make it in a harsh and dangerous world."

He gave her a stern look. "We're not _that_ similar. I agreed to come on this quest and everyone knew how incompetent I was, and you've been lying about everything since the beginning."

"Yeah, good point."

The little dude rolled his eyes. "I still can't believe you've been pretending to be a stoic warrior this entire time, when you're really...like this."

"Me neither, honestly." Quinn rested her forearm across her knee. "This whole thing's been a trip."

"And I still don't understand how you ended up here. Was it magic? Or something that happened when you, um, died?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

"How...How did you die, if you don't mind me asking?"

Quinn sighed and shook her head. "I don't want to tell you. It's too embarrassing."

His face scrunched up. "Your death was embarrassing?"

"Yeah. Like, you know that person in your family who just hit ten million subscribers on YouTube and and celebrates by live-streaming a thank you video with a selfie stick on a hoverboard, except she decides to do it on the roof of a skyscraper in LA and ends up falling to her death because it's the first time she'd used a hoverboard and she loses her balance? Something like that happened to me."

He did that blinking thing again. "I didn't understand most of what you just said."

She shifted so she was facing the cliffside opposite of them and pointed out two points on the rock. "I fell from there to there. No parachute."

"Oh." He winced, then turned to her. "What's a parachute?"

"It's a...thing. You know what? I'll explain all that shit to you on the road." Quinn stood up. "But we should probably get going."

"Right." He used his walking stick to brace himself as he stood up as well.

"I appreciate you, by the way. I'm glad we could have some real talk, Master Baggins."

He gave her a slightly exasperated smile and shook his head. "Just Bilbo, please. Are you ready to go?"

"No, actually." Quinn put one hand on her sword. "Shit. I forgot my pack inside. I came out here pretending I wanted a pee break, but I forgot to take my stuff with me. You know when you're in that pee mentality—"

"Just go get it."

"Okay." She turned to walk back inside the cave. "Your sword looks pretty dope when it glows like that, by the way."

Everyone was still asleep when she walked back in. Carefully, she tiptoed over the dwarves back to where her pack was leaning against the wall.

A strange hissing noise made her look down. The sand beneath her feet was shifting and sliding down into a crack in the floor. She watched as the crack began to grow wider.

"Weird." She stood up. "Hey, guys, I think the floor might be—"

The ground beneath her feet fell away, and Quinn let out a long, loud curse as she began to free fall though open air.

 **I hate that there's not more synonyms for rock and stone. Oh well.**  
 **Poor Bilbo…he's probably really confused about Quinn.**

 **Many thanks to KnightLawn, drwatsonn, TheDoctorWhoSpeaksInHands, and Tibblets for the lovely reviews! Feel free to leave a comment for this chapter letting me know what you thought, and what you think will happen next. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thanks so much for reading!**


	6. First Dungeon

**Chapter 6: First Dungeon**

Questing involved a lot more falling than Quinn was prepared to deal with. After the first rock wall she hit on her way down, and the second, and the third, she was beginning to prefer a second round with the stone giants. At least the _sentient_ rocks hadn't kicked the shit out of her.

When she finally stopped falling, she realized she'd landed on a wood platform of sorts. She winced and started to push herself up.

"All right, you're good. At least this fall didn't kill you a seco— _fucking hell!_ " She wheezed as a dwarf-shaped weight slammed into her back, forcing her back to the floor.

 _Okay, minor setback, but—oof._ Quinn grunted as another weight fell on her legs. Soon, she was at the bottom of a wriggling, groaning pile thirteen dwarves high. _I think I'm just gonna lay here until the universe stops body slamming me._

As everyone began to right themselves, she pushed herself into a kneeling position and checked herself for injuries. Her ancient warrior body seemed to be holding up pretty well, and thankfully her sword was still attached.

"Look out!"

She turned around, wondering what else was coming to beat them up, and froze at the sight of the creatures sprinting towards them. They were a little shorter than the dwarves, and had slimy, blemished skin, misshapen noses, and sharp teeth. The monsters swarmed over their group, grabbing and biting whatever they could reach.

Quinn's _I somehow ended up in Walmart on Black Friday_ instincts kicked in, and she threw her foot out and kicked the first creature she could reach square in the chest. She elbowed another one in the face when it tried to grab her arm.

Around her, the dwarves were shouting and fighting against their attackers as well. They didn't seem to be much paying attention to her, so Quinn shrugged and continued to fight like white suburban retail customer.

Quite a few of the creatures ended up going over the edge of the platform, but two more replaced each one that fell, and even thirteen battle-hardened dwarves and one semi-capable ancient warrior couldn't keep from being overwhelmed.

 _Where's Bilbo?_ She hadn't seen him since she'd entered the cave, and hoped he wasn't still waiting for her. It would probably be a while before she'd be able to get out of this mess.

After a minutes, Quinn noticed the monsters were doing more shoving than grabbing and biting. Then she saw how far she'd moved from her original position and realized they weren't trying to attack at all—they were moving them. There wasn't much she could do about that, the same way it was hard to resist the tide at the beach, but it was pretty annoying that they kept grabbing her ass because of the height difference. At least, she hoped that was because of the height difference.

Gradually, the monsters pushed them over rickety bridges and walkways that hugged the wall of a massive cavern. The bottom of the cavern was so far down Quinn couldn't see it, and hoped the creatures' shitty infrastructure would actually hold up.

Eventually they ended up in a huge area lit by dozens of torches. Hundreds of the little monsters lined the walls, chanting and snarling as they were led to the center.

 _This place is almost entirely wood and fire. They must have the best fire department in the world._

Their destination was a throne room of sorts, a large platform with what must have been the monsters' leader at the end. The throne was pretty decent, a finely carved chair, but the guy sitting on it was just straight ugly.

 _That chin is going to haunt my dreams_.

One of the monsters snatched her sword from its sheath, and when she tried to grab it back, another gave her a hard shove to her stomach. The others protested similarly as their weapons were confiscated and heaped into a pile at the front of the group.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into the Kingdom of the Goblins?" the leader asked. He waved his staff, which had some sort of animal skull on the top. "Spies? Thieves? _Assassins_?"

Quinn tried not to snort as his voice cracked. Judging by the weird, ugly crown on his head, she guessed this guy was the king of the goblins, though that might have just been because he was the biggest.

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," one of the goblins said.

"Dwarves?" The king's bloodshot eyes swept across the group. He extended one long-nailed finger, and Quinn realized he was pointing at her. "That one's not a dwarf."

 _Fuck me. Of course I'd stand out—I'm basically waist-deep in shorter people_.

If she was going to be singled out, then she might as well make it count. These monsters were pretty gross, but didn't seem all that threatening, like little kids on Halloween. And she was willing to bet she'd make a lot more of an impact as Belekur the Ancient Warrior than Clueless Quinn.

Shoving a couple of goblins out of the way, she made her way to the front of the group. She took a deep breath and...decided to wing it.

"I am Belekur, one of the five ancient warriors sworn to protect Middle-earth." _Okay. Good start. What now?_

The goblin king's lip curled. "I've heard of your kind." His voice took on a mocking tone. "Noble heroes, destined to guard the Free Peoples of Middle-earth."

The crowd of goblins booed. Quinn resisted the urge to flip them off.

"And what are you and your dwarf companions doing in these parts?"

"We were simply passing through," she said. It felt a little weird to tell the truth for once. "We have no business with you, Goblin King."

He gave a nasty little chuckle at that, and Quinn wondered what was so funny. "But, see, I have some business with _you_. Your little group here is trespassing on my lands, and that simply cannot go unpunished." The goblin lifted his head and called out, "Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone-Breaker!"

 _The fucking what?_

"Start with our warrior friend here."

A shiver ran down her spine. It had all been fun and games until he had started talking about breaking bones like it was a special segment on a game show.

"Wait!" Thorin pushed to the front of the crowd, bringing the attention to him.

At the expression on the Goblin King's face, Quinn corrected herself—roasting Thorin was about to be the special segment on Spin the Dwarf on the Torture Wheel.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." He gave an exaggerated but admittedly nice bow.

Quinn did a double take at the glowering dwarf. She'd somehow missed that the guy was royalty. That explained why he was so uptight.

"Oh, but I'm forgetting," the Goblin King continued. "You don't have a mountain, and you're not a king. Which makes you...nobody, really."

All the goblins hooted like that had actually been a good burn. Or maybe this place was like North Korea, and if they didn't laugh, they'd be put on the Bone-Breaker.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak." He grinned. "An old enemy of yours. A pale orc, astride a white warg."

Quinn didn't know what either of those things were, but it made the color white sound bad. Not that there was any significance to that, since she had only seen white people here. She'd have to ask about that later.

Clearly, Thorin knew what the goblin was referring to, as the lines on his face grew deeper and his voice came out as little more than a growl. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" the goblin sneered. He turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a little harness attached to a wire. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

The little goblin cackled and zip-lined away, scribbling the message on a little piece of paper.

 _Man, I want that job. If I worked on a zip-line all day, maybe being in Goblin Kingdom wouldn't be so bad._

"Now, where were we?" The Goblin King swiveled back to their group, and his bulging gaze landed on Quinn. "Ah, yes. Our brave little ancient warrior."

She tensed up as everyone's attention turned back to her. _Who are you calling little? I'm the tallest one here._

He raised his voice to address the crowd. "Did you know the pain tolerance of ancient warriors is supposed to be legendary? Rumor has it they can survive a thousand cuts in battle and keep their footing." He tilted his head. "Do you know this to be true, warrior?"

The goblins roared, and her heart began to beat faster as one of the goblins advanced, a curved knife in its grip. Quinn took one look at the grimy blade and knew she'd get at least six STDs if that thing touched her.

Behind her, the dwarves yelled in outrage, pushing forward against the goblins holding them in place. It made her feel a little better that they were mad about the possibility of her getting hurt, even though they couldn't really do anything about it.

The goblin with the knife gave her a snarling grin as it advanced. It was then that she noticed it was hesitating just the slightest bit—probably because it was the perfect height for her to kick its head like a soccer ball.

"Come, now," the Goblin King said, because apparently he couldn't go thirty seconds without talking. "Let's see some blood!"

At this, the goblin finally lunged, going in for a horizontal slice.

Quinn kicked its head like a soccer ball.

Her boot connected with the underside of its jaw and the goblin went flying back in a full arc, disappearing over the edge of the platform. The goblins roared again, and she thought she heard Kíli give a triumphant shout, but the ringing in her ears had returned.

 _Jesus, I just killed that thing_.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Goblin King reach for his staff. She returned to the present a moment later as he swung it in a horizontal arc, one of the horns slicing through her cheek.

Pain lanced across her face, and she staggered to the side. One hand came up to gingerly touch the cut, and came away stained red.

"That's one." The Goblin King flicked a bit of blood— _her_ blood, Quinn thought dizzily—from his staff. The cocky bravado was gone from his face, and now he looked straight up murderous. He stood up, causing the platform to shake a little, and his staff swung upwards. She brought one arm up to protect her face and received another cut on her forearm for her efforts. "That's two."

 _Holy fuck._ At this point, Quinn kind of wanted to sit down and cry. There was blood soaking into her sleeve and running down her face. As her shock faded away, the two cuts began to sting horribly. The worst of it was the knowledge that there was no way to stop the goblin from doing it nine hundred and ninety eight more times.

The dwarves had resumed shouting behind her, but the goblins in the room were also shouting, so it became background noise. The Goblin King raised his staff for a third strike.

The next thing Quinn knew, she was lying on her back and blinking away the white sparks left behind from a bright light. She pushed herself up, wondering if she'd been whacked into a concussion, then noticed a familiar silhouette appear on the edge of the platform.

"Take up arms," Gandalf said. "Fight. _Fight_!"

At this, the dwarves pushed themselves up—apparently everyone had been knocked down by Gandalf's shockwave—and lunged for their weapons.

Quinn was still on the floor, perfectly content to just sit this one out, until a goblin rammed into her back, knocking her over. She twisted so that she was facing it and shoved away both arms as it clawed at her. Without giving her even a moment to catch her breath, it was back in her face, snarling and grabbing at her throat. Fear had frozen every muscle in her body, and it was all she could do to feebly protest as the goblin attacked.

"Belekur!" Fíli paused in fighting another goblin long enough to kick her sword in her direction.

Upon seeing the metal handle glint in the light of the torches, a bit of awareness jolted her back to reality. Quinn pushed the goblin up with her bleeding forearm and awkwardly grabbed her sword with her left hand. Not knowing what else to do, she jabbed the pommel into the goblin's eye. It staggered back with a howl, finally freeing her.

Shakily, Quinn climbed to her feet and drew her sword. Having a sturdy weapon in her hand made her feel a little better, at least until she remembered she had no idea how to use it. The dwarves and Gandalf were already fighting the way to the edge of the platform, towards another walkway behind the throne. If she didn't get her act together, they'd leave her behind.

 _Fuck it_. She swung the blade in a horizontal arc, cutting down a nearby goblin. Her stomach turned just as it had when she'd kicked the goblin off the platform. It didn't help that she could smell the dark blood leaking all over the floor.

The remaining goblins on the platform converged on her, and it was desperate fear that led her to swing her sword again. It was long enough to keep the goblins at bay before they could reach her. As she fought, a strange sort of numbness set over her.

 _This is just your typical hack 'n slash game_ , a faraway part of her brain reasoned. _You've faced bigger hordes of enemies than this. Just cut them down_.

She remembered the others and sprinted to catch up with them. As she passed the empty throne, she vaguely wondered where the Goblin King had gone. He didn't look that capable of making a quick and quiet getaway.

After a minute, she ended up in the back of the line as they sprinted across the walkways. Gandalf was leading them out, and so far there weren't any goblins blocking their way. Dozens of footsteps clattered on the paths behind them, though, so she sped up her pace.

Quinn heard a snarl from above and looked up to see a goblin dropping down from one of the higher walkways. Her sword came up and the goblin fell right onto it like some sort of fucked up medieval kebab. She tilted her blade down and the goblin tumbled off of it and into the abyss. Without stopping to watch it fall, she kept going.

Eventually, she realized there was a rhythm to it all. Her job was pretty simple: make sure the others didn't fall behind (which was easy, since everyone was eager to get the hell out of there), kill any goblins approaching them from the rear, and make sure she herself didn't fall behind while doing item #2.

She'd been doing this sort of multitasking for most of her life. Except this time, she was moving more than just her fingers.

They had just crossed a rickety bridge when Dwalin shouted back to her, "Belekur! Cut the ropes!"

Quinn turned and raised her sword as the goblins swarmed over the bridge towards them.

 _Prepare to meet Kali...in hell!_

She swung her sword down and hacked the ropes apart. The goblins howled as the bridge gave way and they plummeted into the darkness.

Just when she was starting to get the hang of the whole fighting thing, their group came to a halt as the Goblin King burst forth from their walkway like some demented humpback whale. Goblins swarmed in from either side, trapping them on the walkway.

"You thought you could escape me?" The Goblin King swung his staff downwards, nearly crushing Gandalf's toes, then slashed at his stomach. The wizard only barely dodged both blows.

Quinn glared at the goblin. _What kind of monster tries to beat up an old man?_

"What are you going to do now, wizard?"

In rapid succession, Gandalf poked the goblin in the eye, sliced his stomach open, and then slashed his throat.

Quinn made a mental note to never talk back to Gandalf.

The Goblin King fell dead onto the walkway, his weight making the whole platform shake. The goblins surrounding them chattered uneasily, unsure what to do now that their king was bleeding all over the bridge.

Before she could suggest that they kindly show them the exit, the wood beneath their feet shuddered violently, making everyone sway to keep their balance. The sound of cracking wood filled the cavern, and Quinn had one second to curse before their section of the bridge broke entirely and they plummeted into the abyss.

 _We're going to end up in the center of the Earth before we get out of these fucking Misty Mountains._

Her screaming mingled with the others' as they smashed into the wood beams below. The whole bridge jolted as they crashed into a stone slope and slid the rest of the way down. It was only once they finally stopped at the bottom that the battered structure finally collapsed. Quinn winced, feeling as though someone had broken a whole dining room table over her back.

"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur said.

Everyone yelled again as the goblin king's very, very heavy corpse landed on top of them.

It seemed he had ended up giving her a thousand cuts in the end, and ninety percent of them were splinters.

"Gandalf!" Kíli's shout made them all turn to the other end of the ravine, where hundreds of goblins were pouring down the slope towards them.

Quinn smacked her forehead on the wood beam below her.

"There's only one thing that will save us now: daylight. Come on!"

At this, the dwarves began to pull themselves and each other from the wreckage. Quinn gratefully accepted a red-headed dwarf's hand, then reached over to help Bombur to his feet.

They fled down a series of dark tunnels, with Gandalf leading the way once more. She wondered if there was some sort of wizard GPS guiding him, since she didn't see daylight down any of the paths. But his navigation must have had something behind it, as soon they were back outside and sprinting downhill.

Once the mouth of the tunnel was well out of sight, they paused to catch their breath. Gandalf started doing a silent headcount like he was a camp counselor or something.

Quinn braced her hands on her knees. Her pulse was still pounding so hard she could feel it in her jaw. Despite a ton of bullshit, they'd made it out alive. And somehow she'd kept up her ancient warrior guise the whole time.

 _Scratch that_ , she thought as she saw Thorin marching towards her, his expression thunderous. He'd definitely caught onto her.

"You froze," he said, an accusatory finger aimed at her chest. "When you first drew your blade back there, you froze."

"Like an antelope in headlights?" Quinn replied weakly. No one got the reference.

"Now, Thorin." Gandalf took a step towards them and held one hand out in a placating gesture. "Belekur is a legendary fighter, and one of—"

"I'm not, though." She took a step back, holding up her palms in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not an ancient warrior." Everyone stared at her with various levels of shock.

 _Shit_. It hadn't been supposed to go like this. But Quinn knew there was no point in hiding anymore.

Thorin, despite his earlier angry conviction, looked genuinely shaken. "You lied to us."

"Yup. I lied." She took a deep breath. "Cards on the table, I am not an ancient warrior. This is not my body, I don't know who the fuck Belekur is, and I have no idea what I'm doing."

 **Please tell me someone got that Indiana Jones reference.**  
 **I'm proud of this chapter, and I hope you guys liked it too. I'm going to try and make chapters a little bit longer from now on since I have more time. As always, thanks for reading and a huge thanks to Tibblets and PepperCornPie for reviewing. For all of the people asking if Quinn is in a "girl body" or a "boy body," I'll let Belekur explain in later chapters :) Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	7. First Boss

**Chapter 7: First Boss**

Complete silence followed her statement. Quinn swore she could hear the pine needles dropping from the trees.

She held her breath as everyone stared at her. In all honesty, she had no idea what was about to happen. Best case scenario, a camera crew would come out from behind the trees and announce that this was a prank show. Worst case scenario...well, the dwarves sure did have a lot of sharp weapons.

The first one to speak was Gandalf, and for some reason, he completely changed the subject. "Where is Bilbo?" he asked, his voice a little too calm as though he was trying to keep himself from pulling a staff-in-the-eye on her. He walked into the center of the group and looked around. "Where is our hobbit?"

"Lowkey, he bailed before we got dropped into the Goblin Kingdom," Quinn said. She received a few confused glances mixed in with half a dozen glares.

"What are you saying?" Gandalf asked, his voice growing demanding as he waved his staff. "Tell me what happened, exactly."

"I'll tell you what happened." Thorin looked like he was ready to break something in half. He gestured roughly towards the mountains. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He has abandoned us for his soft bed and his warm hearth. We will not be seeing our hobbit again." He rounded on Gandalf and glared at him. "I was a fool to accept your choice of companions for this quest, for it has left me with nothing but cowards and liars."

"Hey, now." Quinn took a step forward, her hands still raised defensively. "This is on me. I somehow bullshitted Gandalf into thinking I was an ancient warrior way back in Rivendell—sorry about that, by the way," she added as the wizard narrowed his eyes. "And he hasn't been around to see me act otherwise. You know, at least Bilbo was honest about being totally incompetent."

An exasperated sigh sounded from behind her. "Yes, thank you for that." And Bilbo Baggins, scraped up and dirty but alive, stepped out from behind a tree.

Quinn spun around and stepped back. "What the hell?"

"Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf stepped forward as the dwarves sighed in relief. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life."

"Wait, what happened?" she asked. "I thought you left and went back to Rivendell."

"Well, actually…" Bilbo fidgeted nervously as fifteen scrutinizing gazes landed on him. "Once I realized there were goblins nearby, I ran back into the cave and fell down with you lot. After that, though, I managed to slip away."

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fíli asked.

Bilbo blinked and gave a hesitant chuckle, settling his hands in the pockets of his waistcoat.

"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf said, saving him from further awkwardness. "He's back."

"It matters," Thorin said. "I want to know." He took a step towards Bilbo, who looked like he wanted to hide behind the tree again. "Why did you come back?"

For a long moment, Bilbo stared at the dwarf, took a deep breath, then said, "Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you're right. I wish I was back in Bag End. I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. That's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, 'cause...you don't have one—a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

Silence filled the clearing once more. Thorin and Bilbo held eye contact for a really long time, while the dwarves around them looked pensive and touched. Quinn started to clap quietly, then stopped when no one joined in.

From farther up the hill, a few howls echoed down to them, making everyone tense up. She turned towards the noise and put one hand on her sword. Her group had just killed the king of the goblins. _Bring it, wolves_.

Thorin did not seem so optimistic. "Out of the frying pan…"

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished as he hefted his staff. "Run! _Run_!"

 _Jesus fucking Christ, all we ever do on this journey is run and walk, and if we're not doing those then we're falling,_ Quinn grumbled to herself as they sprinted away from the howling. _Could we at least mix it up a little with white water rafting, or something_?

As they ran, she noticed the sun was setting and casting long shadows across the woods. Through the darkening trees, she glanced over her shoulder and cursed at what she saw.

"Why are those wolves so fucking big?"

"Those are wargs, Master—er, not-Belekur," said Bofur, pausing and swinging his mattock into the side of a wolf/warg's face as it drew close. "Not wolves. Have you not seen them before?"

"Uh, no?" Quinn drew her sword and swung wildly at one of the wargs, leaving a deep gash on its snout. This wasn't enough to kill the beast, however, and it turned to her with a snarl. Bombur whacked the beast in the eye, and Kíli finished it off by thrusting his sword into its throat.

She looked down at her sword. Beneath the blood on the edge of her blade, the metal seemed to be glowing under the moonlight. She twisted it this way and that, but it didn't appear to be reflecting the light, exactly.

Before she could ponder it further, a warg leapt from the brush, jaws open and ready to sink its teeth into her. Dwalin's axe crunched into the back of the warg's neck, instantly killing it. "Stay out of the way before you get yourself killed," he said before decimating another one of the wargs.

"Well, where am I supposed to—"

"Up into the trees!" Gandalf shouted, gesturing for them to move. "All of you, climb!"

 _That works_. Quinn leapt up to a low-hanging branch and used her ancient warrior upper body strength to pull herself up. Gripping another branch, she reached down with her free hand to pull Dori up behind her.

"Higher up." He motioned for her to keep climbing. "Or you'll lose your legs."

Quinn hoisted herself higher up and turned towards Gandalf's tree. She was ready to ask why they'd given up on running when she caught sight of the edge just beyond their little cluster of pines.

They'd run onto a cliff.

A flash of white made her turn back towards the wargs. At least a dozen of them had crowded under their trees, snarling at them with long fangs. A few of the wargs carried riders, which were ugly, humanoid creatures that didn't quite look like goblins.

 _This place has too many types of people. I can barely keep up with elves and dwarves. I already forgot what Bilbo is. Next thing I know, there's gonna be fish people walking around_.

At the center of the group, sitting on a warg with white fur, was the palest of this new kind of monster. Quinn thought the weird metal corset that left his upper chest exposed was a bold move, fashion-wise. In one hand he carried a huge mace like it was a pocket knife, though this wasn't surprising since the guy was basically all muscle.

 _Hey, that's the duo the Goblin King was talking about! A white warg and a pale...roc?_

The pale roc breathed deeply and started speaking in a strange, guttural language. He then pointed his mace at Thorin and uttered some sort of attack command. The wargs and rocs surged forward.

"That can't be right," Quinn said. She turned to Dori. "What are those things called again? The non-wargs?"

"Hold on!"

"Is that what they're called, or are you telling me to—" She yelped as the tree shook violently, nearly tearing itself from her grasp.

The wargs below were trying to tear the pines down, leaping a good ten feet in the air and ripping branches straight from the trunk.

"Ohhh, boy." Quinn pushed herself onto a higher branch and wrapped both hands around the trunk. "What would I do for a shotgun right now?" The tree shuddered again, and she jabbed her sword ineffectually at the leaping wargs. "Go! Away!"

"You know," the red-headed dwarf said from a lower branch, "I think I liked you better when you didn't talk so much."

A large shape moving through the trees made her look up. One of the other pines had apparently been uprooted, and was falling towards them. The handful of dwarves on that tree managed to leap onto theirs, but the collision was already tilting their tree as well.

Quinn tightened her grip on the trunk, cursing as they descended.

"Jump!"

A relatively sturdy branch entered her line of sight, and she latched onto it. When that tree started to fall as well, she swung to the next branch like she was on the most deadly monkey bars in the world.

When the tree stayed standing, Quinn looked around and realized everyone was gathered on the same pine at the very edge of the cliff.

 _Well, this is cinematic. And also terrifying_.

The wargs were still going at it below. She was really wishing for a shotgun when something bright and hot flew past her ear and struck the ground next to the wargs. Flame sprouted up from the spot and spread unnaturally fast. The wargs whimpered and leapt back.

Another fireball joined the first. Quinn looked up, excited to see Gandalf use his wizard powers, then realized he was just lighting pinecones on fire with his wizard lighter or whatever.

Gandalf tossed down a couple of lit pinecones to Fíli and Balin, who used them to light other pinecones and pass them down the tree. Quinn whooped as Fíli tossed one to her and lobbed it at the group of wargs. Finally, they began to retreat as the fire formed a barrier between their tree and the enemies.

The dwarves shouted in triumph, their collective movements making the tree shake.

"Okay, cool it with the rocking, guys," Quinn called up to them. "If this thing falls, we…" She sighed as their tree began to tilt towards the edge of the cliff. "I shouldn't have said anything."

The dwarves cried out and scrambled for tighter holds on the branches as the tree ground to a halt at a 180 degree angle from the cliff. She caught sight of the ground, which was _really_ far below, and felt her stomach flip.

 _We gotta get off this thing before it gives out_.

Near the top of the tree, the nerd dwarf yelped as his tree branch snapped. He only just managed to grab onto another dwarf's leg.

Painful sparks of adrenaline shot all the way down to the tips of her toes. Dying herself was terrifying, but she'd been there before. Quinn didn't think she'd be able to handle seeing one of the dwarves fall to his death.

They needed to get back on solid ground. They could figure out the wargs and rocs once they weren't in danger of falling anymore. She swung one leg towards the trunk, trying to gain purchase on the wood so she could pull herself up, then protested as Thorin almost stepped on her foot.

 _Wait, what_?

The dwarf was already on his feet and walking down the trunk, towards the fire. Quinn was about to ask what he was doing when she looked past him. The pale guy was sitting on his warg, wreathed in flames and waiting for Thorin's advance.

With a roar, Thorin charged towards him, his sword raised. The pale guy bent low over his warg and spurred it forwards. Just before they collided, a burning branch fell into Quinn's line of sight, cutting off her view of the battle.

"Oh, come on!"

Judging by the dwarves' cries of fury, she assumed it wasn't going well. A flash of red caught her attention. Bilbo had made it onto the trunk as well. He drew his sword and held it with shaking hands.

"Hey, man, can you help me u…" Quinn watched as Bilbo sprinted down the trunk. "No? Okay."

Thorin's cry of pain sounded on the cliff, and he finally re-entered her line of vision as he was thrown against a rock. When he didn't get back up, a spike of fear entered her heart. She threw her leg against the trunk again, but her boot slipped against the bark.

One of the warg riders appeared next to Thorin and held its blade just above his throat. Quinn hissed through her teeth, knowing she'd never be able to make it in time. The rider raised its blade up for a powerful swing.

Bilbo leapt out of the brush, tackling the rider to the ground. His sword flashed through the air as he stabbed down into its chest.

The tree shook again as Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin raced onto the cliff to defend him and Thorin against the advancing wargs. Quinn huffed in triumph as she managed to find purchase on the trunk. She used it to leverage herself into an upright position on the branch, then tried to stand up...only to keel over backwards as the wood snapped beneath her feet.

 _Well that was fucking dumb_ , Quinn thought, falling. Panic set in as she realized she was really going to die this time. There was no rock ledge to land on, and she didn't think Gandalf had any sort of magic that would save her.

The wind rushing past her ears became incredibly loud. She grunted as something surprisingly soft broke her fall. _What the hell?_ Twisting around so she was lying on her stomach, Quinn was surprised to feel wind-ruffled feathers beneath her fingers. She'd been caught by some sort of giant bird.

"Why are all the animals in this world so fucking big?" she asked no one in particular.

Most of the hillside was ablaze at this point. Through the haze of smoke, Quinn could see more giant birds plucking various dwarves from their fallen tree. Another group was attacking the wargs.

Her bird flapped its wings, and ascended towards the moonlit clouds. As her adrenaline began to fade, she realized how cold the wind rushing past was. They were so high up, the trees below were nothing more than tiny blurs of dark green. The thought made her dizzy, so she dug her fingers into the bird's feathers and hoped it didn't mind.

The cut on her arm from Goblin Town was crusted with dried blood and, though it stung like hell, was already beginning to close up. A quick inspection informed her that the one on her face was doing about the same. Maybe ancient warriors did have a healing factor.

The thought didn't make her feel any better, though. The past twenty-four hours had been one disaster after another, from the stone giants to the goblins to the wargs. She'd gotten in a few kills in Goblin Town, and she'd still made it out with all four limbs, but that didn't change the fact that this shit was too intense for her.

"Hey." She patted the bird on the neck. "Do you think you could turn around? I want to go the other way."

The bird didn't react. Quinn sighed. There was no way she was passing through the mountains to get back there. For now, she was stuck with a group of dwarves who were all pissed at her for lying.

 _Not cool_. Quinn buried her face in the bird's feathers and wished for a joint.

* * *

By the time the birds dropped them off, the sun had risen and Quinn was pretty sure her limbs were frozen solid. The group of birds descended into a sloping green valley covered in trees. In the center of the valley was a tall column of white stone. Her bird landed on top of the pillar. She slid off its back and immediately faceplanted as her stiff legs refused to work.

The dwarves were all crowded around Thorin, who had apparently finally regained consciousness. His face was covered with scrapes and cuts, and the fabric near his shoulder was soaked in blood. With Kíli and Dwalin's help, he struggled to his feet and faced Bilbo, who was standing apart from the group.

"You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed."

Bilbo shot a helpless glance towards Gandalf, who clacked his staff against the stone and sighed.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?" Thorin staggered towards him, causing Bilbo to take a tiny step backwards. "That you had no place amongst us?"

 _Didn't we move past this yesterday?_ Quinn shot a concerned glance at the pair, preparing to step in, but then Thorin said, "I have never been so wrong, in all my life," and pulled Bilbo into a tight embrace. The dwarves cheered like they had been waiting for that to happen.

 _That was pretty dramatic,_ she thought. _Maybe Thorin used to be a theater kid. That was something a theater kid would do._

Thorin pulled back and checked him over for injuries. "I am sorry I doubted you."

Bilbo shook his head. "No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior." He shot a meaningful glance in Gandalf's direction. "Or even a burglar."

"Hey, same for me," Quinn said. "I'm not a hero or a warrior, and the one time I tried B&E I got arrested."

Everyone turned to face her, and the atmosphere grew chilly again.

She figured she wasn't off the hook since she hadn't saved anyone's life. And she'd also lied.

Thorin turned towards her. He was clearly still angry, but some of the outrage he had expressed on the hillside had faded. "It is apparent enough that you are no warrior. So who are you, really?"

 **Whenever Quinn internally monologues, I picture a Lizzie McGuire style freeze frame with a little cartoon Quinn complaining about goblins or some shit. And I k** **ind of wanted to kick her ass in this chapter because I had to describe Thorin's nemesis as "the pale guy" since she can't keep names straight. I know you guys have probably read this same Misty Mountains sequence hundreds of times, but after this chapter the story gets switched up a little. Anyway, Quinn's little secret reveal will be discussed in the next chapter. I didn't do it in this one because action scenes and I also didn't want to take away from my favorite boy's character development.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn and Guest186 for reviewing. Please leave a review letting me know what you thought and what you think will happen next!**


	8. (?) The Company will remember that

**Chapter 8: (?) The Company will remember that.**

"Well…" Quinn stalled, feeling her skin prickle under fifteen intense gazes. Gandalf kind of looked like if he stared at her hard enough, lighting would shoot out of his eyes and incinerate her. _Wait, what if he can do that?_

Bilbo caught her eye and gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she took a deep breath. This little guy had run straight into a group of enemies with nothing but a medieval pocket knife, and all she had to do was talk about herself. No big deal.

"Okay. My real name is Quinn Fleming. I'm from Los Angeles, California, which is in the United States of America." The group stared at her blankly. "Which is on the planet Earth. In the Milky Way Galaxy." More blank looks. "Which I'm guessing is far away from here."

"You must have crossed the barrier between worlds," Gandalf said. "That is what ancient warriors do when they are summoned here."

"Okay, well, like I said, I'm not an ancient warrior." She gestured to herself. "This isn't even my body. The last thing I remember from my own world is dying, and then I woke up in Riverdale."

"Rivendell."

"Right."

"And how did you die?" Gandalf asked. The fact that he was asking questions reassured her somewhat—if there was anyone who could give her answers as to how she'd ended up here, it was him.

"I, uh, fell. From a…" Quinn glanced behind her, where the rock pillar ended in a long, steep drop. "From a great height."

"Were there any celestial convergences occurring at the time? Perhaps you were near a source of magical energy when you died?"

"No, dude. I don't even know what those things are. We don't have magic in my world."

"Why did you lie to us about who you really are?" Thorin asked.

 _Wow, he's just going straight for the tough questions_. Quinn shifted her weight around a little, trying to stall. "You know what? I'm gonna sit down. My feet hurt. You guys feel free to sit too." No one moved. She shrugged and lowered herself into a cross-legged position, resting her elbows on her knees.

"From the very beginning, you refused to tell the truth about your situation," Gandalf said. "Did someone tell you to do so?"

"No. You were the first person I talked to when I got here." She sat up straighter so she could get a better look at the wizard. "You know what? It's your fault I lied about this whole thing. Because you walked in and started telling me who I was and what I was supposed to do. And I decided to go along with it because—because that's what I usually do in situations like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked the dwarf with the big, angular hairstyle. "How many of these situations have you encountered?"

"Well, I—" Quinn stammered, then sighed. If she was going to spill the beans, she might as well spill all of them. "All right. Back home, in my old body, in my old life, I was a let's player."

"What is lets?" Fíli asked.

"It's...no. All right, basically, I played video games for a living, and I would upload them to YouTube for other people to watch and make money off of the ad revenue. I can tell by all of your faces that none of you understood what I said." She rubbed her brow and tried to think of an equivalent for people who didn't even have electricity. "I was...uh, an entertainer. What do you guys have in this world? Bards?"

"So, did you sing?" Bofur asked.

"Sometimes, but I usually got a lot of dislikes for that." She thought she saw the dwarf crack a smile at that, and relaxed a little.

"Get back to the point," Thorin said, an edge of impatience entering his voice. "What does this have to do with your lying?"

"Oh, right." Quinn paused, trying to think of how best to explain this without making everyone more confused than they already were. "Well, part of my job as an entertainer was to...sort of reenact stories. In each one, you're handed a name and a weapon and told to follow what other people ask you to do. I guess I was treating this sort of like one of those games—I mean, stories. Or I guess it was kind of like a game to me."

His expression darkened at that, and Quinn shifted uncomfortably. The guy had almost died trying to fight off those psycho warg-riding monsters. After that whole debacle, she felt kind of shitty for labeling their quest as a game.

"I understand now that it's not a game. My actions have real-life consequences. Obviously. And if I'd come to that conclusion earlier, I probably wouldn't have come."

"Aye," Thorin said. "You should not have come at all." He stalked off towards the other end of the pillar.

Quinn glanced around at the others. Gandalf seemed to be deep in thought. Bilbo had sat down as well, though she wasn't sure if it was in solidarity or he was just tired. The dwarves had varied expressions among them, ranging from angry to confused to thoughtful.

"I know you guys are mad. I would be too, if someone promised to help me and turned out to be a jackass liar. So sometimes you just have to spray paint dicks on the car of the guy who lied about being an electrician and was actually just trying to steal your TV. If you livestream it you _will_ get arrested, though."

"What language is it that you speak?" the dwarf who had stitched her face up asked.

"English. Same as you guys. Though my world has a ton of slang that yours probably doesn't."

"Speaking of language, what are we to call you?" Bofur glanced around the group. "We've had a bit of trouble determining…"

"Well, my name is Quinn—oh, I see. She and her is fine."

She almost missed the couple bags of coins exchanged between hands.

"If you'll excuse me," the healer dwarf pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "I have a patient to attend to." He set off towards where Thorin was standing.

With that, some of the tension in the group seemed to dissolve, and they set about their business. Some of the dwarves began tending their own wounds, though all of them seemed minor. The nerd dwarf sat down and began crossing things out in his journal.

Bilbo moved so he was sitting next to her. "So, how was that?"

"Not too bad, actually." Quinn lifted one knee and draped her arm across it. "I like talking about myself."

He let out a small chuckle at that and raised his eyebrows. "That was plain enough to see. What are you going to do now?"

"You mean if I can't continue with you guys?"

"Well, I suppose that's up to Thorin," Bilbo said, glancing over at the dwarf, who was baring his injured shoulder for the healer. "And he doesn't seem too fond of you at the moment."

"Yup. I should probably have a plan B." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "You think there's another elf town somewhere in the vicinity? I know next to nothing about the geography of this place."

"Let me think." Bilbo tilted his head back. "There's the Shire to the west, but that's full of hobbits. I don't think you'd fit in there."

"Why? Is a hobbit another type of monster?"

He turned and stared at her. "Really?"

"What?" Quinn spread her hands. "I really can't keep track of all these creatures."

" _I'm_ a hobbit, Quinn. I only meant that hobbits aren't very fond of outsiders. Especially those of your, um, height."

"I really need to start taking notes," she said under her breath. "Okay. What about the other places?"

"Well, there's Rivendell, which you've already seen. I believe there's a couple more elf kingdoms on this side of the Misty Mountains, one to the east and one south of here. And then there are the two kingdoms of men, Rohan and Gondor, which are also to the south. You'd probably have the best luck of fitting in there. Uh, physically, if nothing else."

"Rohan and Gondor." Even if she ended up there, Quinn had no idea what she was going to do. "Maybe I'll become a bard."

Bilbo laughed again. "I'd pay to see that."

* * *

Quinn scratched at the dried blood on her arm. They still had an hour before they were supposed to head down the pillar, which conveniently had stairs carved into the side. Thorin had wanted to leave sooner than that, but the healer dwarf had insisted he not exert himself due to his injuries, and they'd eventually settled on resting a few hours.

She didn't know what purpose this stone pillar served, or who had taken the time to carve stairs leading to the top, but it sure had an excellent view. Spread out to the east was a wide, dark forest, and just beyond, half-shrouded in clouds, was the tiny silhouette of a mountain.

Footsteps scuffed on the stone behind her, and she turned from where she was sitting to see a pair of mud-caked boots. She looked upwards and found Thorin's stern face. His gaze was focused on the horizon, but it was clear he'd come to talk to her—everyone else was minding their business on the other end of the pillar, where there was more room.

"Hey." Quinn pointed at the peak in the distance. "You know anything about that mountain over there?" It seemed like a pretty good icebreaker, since she figured they were both pretty tired of the fake-ancient-warrior topic.

"That is the Lonely Mountain." Thorin didn't sound too angry, so she took that as a good sign.

"Oh, I get it. Because it's not in a mountain range." That was quaint as fuck. "You ever been there?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head turn sharply towards her, and when he spoke, it was slowly and with exaggerated patience. "The Lonely Mountain is home to Erebor, the dwarven kingdom that was taken by the dragon Smaug."

Quinn snapped her fingers. "Okay, it's coming back to me, now. I gotta admit, when Gandalf explained that all to me at first I wasn't totally paying attention." She rested her weight on one hand and turned back to the mountain. "So, that's it, huh? Couldn't the eagles have...eh, never mind."

"Do you mean to say that you've had little idea what this quest was for?" Tension began to creep back into Thorin's voice.

"Honestly, the only thing that stuck with me was the dragon," she said, hoping her casual tone would help diffuse the situation. "Is that still on, by the way? Me helping you guys kill the dragon?" After a split second's hesitation, she turned to look him again.

He looked down at her, not even trying to hide his glare. " _You_ will not be journeying with us to the mountain. Your lies have put my Company in enough danger already."

"Okay. Fair." Quinn looked away. The guy had some intense eyes. "Do you know if there's a rest stop or something around here? Some place that's not…" She gestured with one hand to the wilderness surrounding the pillar.

"I'll consult the wizard about it. You're his problem now." With that, Thorin turned and went to rejoin the group.

"Good talk," she muttered. With her free hand she picked up a loose rock and punted it off the pillar. The little white stone sailed downwards and she lost sight of it before it hit the ground.

Leaving the Company was probably for the best, anyway. They were all way more prepared than her, and she figured they wouldn't let anything happen to Bilbo. If it meant she could skip out on the dragon, she'd happily take on a fetch quest or even a really small fire-breathing lizard.

She sighed and pushed herself to her feet. _God, even in the afterlife being unemployed sucks._

* * *

Quinn didn't realize how unemployed she actually was until they stopped to camp that night.

"Hey, you need any help collecting firewood?"

The dwarf with the axe in his head merely grunted before heading off into the woods. She knew the guy didn't speak much, but he usually made up for it in nonverbal cues.

"Oookay." She turned to the red headed dwarf who was usually in charge of starting fires. He was gathering large stones to place in a circle around the wood the other dwarf was gathering. "Do you want hel—"

"Find something else to do."

Quinn gave him a thumbs up and backed away. They'd lost all their shit in the mountains, so there wasn't much to do in the way of setting up bedrolls or even preparing food. Everyone was busy with their own conversations or personal tasks, and didn't seem too eager to include her. Bilbo was speaking with Thorin a little ways off, and she decided to leave him to it.

 _Perimeter sweep it is._

The forest was silent and dark as she walked. It had been a while since they'd made camp in a place like this, since the land between Rivendell and the mountains had lacked trees. It certainly made everything a little more eerie, and harder to spot the hypothetical threats she was supposed to be looking for.

Quinn jumped as an arrow sank into the ground a few feet away, pinning a now-dead rabbit into place. She watched it stop vibrating from the impact, then walked forward with her hands up.

"Hold your fire, cowboy. There's people in these woods."

Kíli emerged from behind a tree and walked over to the rabbit, plucking it and the arrow from the ground. "Belek—Quinn. What are you doing here?"

She immediately noticed the stiffness in his voice and the overly attentative way he pulled his arrow from the rabbit's body. _Understandable_. She had spent a whole afternoon lying exclusively to him.

Quinn dropped her hands back to her sides. "Eh, you know. Just scouting out. Checking the perimeter."

Kíli slipped the arrow back into his quiver and resumed walking. "Are you sure you're up to that?"

"Yeah." Since they were still technically having a conversation, she decided to follow him. "I still want to contribute to the group."

For a minute it didn't seem like he was going to say anything. "Why did you lie to us?"

"Uh, didn't I answer that question earlier?"

He nodded. "You said it was all a game to you."

"Right. So you're asking why I...okay."

Kíli held up a hand, which she took to be a signal to stop moving. Carefully, he nocked an arrow and fired into the brush. As he'd done before, he walked over and retrieved the arrow, which had gone straight through the side of another rabbit.

"Nice shot," Quinn said, stepping closer. She noticed he was examining the animal with a frown and asked, "Is something wrong?"

He attached the rabbit to the string on his belt with the other one. "A couple of coneys won't do much to feed over a dozen people. If I could take down a buck, that could change things."

"Is there a supermarket nearby? Or someplace we could get food?" She looked around as though she'd be able to spot the glowing sign for a Seven Eleven through the trees.

Kíli gave her a half-amused, half-incredulous look. "This is the wild, Quinn. There are no markets, or supermarkets, whatever those are."

They were getting closer to actual, non-weird conversation. That relieved her, since Kíli had been so easy to talk to in the first place. She leaned against a nearby tree. "Supermarkets are stores where you can buy food, basically. They have a ton of options and a whole lot of everything. Also, I am an asshole."

Kíli, who had been scanning the woods for more game, turned to her. "What?"

"I am an asshole." She flopped her arms awkwardly at her sides. "And that's why I lied to everyone. I treated this quest like a game because that was the best way I could cope with the weird situation I'd been dropped into. It's what I've always done whenever I can't deal. I don't take shit seriously, and I will continue to not take shit seriously. So it's probably for the best that I part ways with you guys at some point."

For the first time, Kíli was looking at her as though he was really seeing her. It was the first time anyone in the Company had looked at her that way.

"Wow, I feel itchy. I usually don't overshare like that." Quinn scratched the back of her neck. "Well, there's my character development speech." She mimed a mic drop. "I'm gonna go now."

She turned to walk away, but stopped as Kíli said, "Wait."

"It's fine," she said as he approached. "You don't need to say anything. Actually, I'd prefer you don't."

He made the same signal for her to be quiet and stop moving, then pointed to a figure between two large trees.

 _Bingo._

The buck hadn't noticed them yet, and was conveniently positioned to provide the largest target for one of Kíli's arrows. He aimed and let it fly.

"Wow, three for three," she said as it found its target. "You're pretty good at this."

"Thank you." He lowered his bow, looking very proud of himself. He turned to her with a nod. "And thank you for being honest."

Quinn smiled and watched him walk over to the downed animal. "Good talk."

* * *

Gandalf beckoned her over as soon as she returned to camp. She let the others congratulate Kíli on his haul and walked over to the wizard.

"What's up?"

"I've given your...situation some thought," Gandalf said, adjusting his grip on his staff. "And I believe I may have a working theory on the reason why you ended up here."

"Oh." Quinn blinked. _That was quick._ "Do tell."

"I believe this was all nothing more than a mistake."

"A mistake."

Gandalf nodded. "Ancient warriors are summoned by the Valar, and I can think of no reason why they would purposefully summon a young person with no useful skills or knowledge to assist this quest."

"That was weirdly close to what my manager at In-N-Out burger told me." Quinn tilted her head to the side, turning over the information in her head. "Well, mistakes happen. Any chance you know how I can get back to Earth? Or wherever I was supposed to go after I died?"

"I'm afraid there is no possibility of returning to your home world. If I understand correctly, your body has died there, and nothing would be available to tie to you to that world."

"I can't even go back as a ghost?" She sighed. "I wouldn't even haunt people, I would just hang out at the movie theater for free all day!"

Gandalf cleared his throat. "What concerns me is the location of the real Belekur. You have clearly inhabited the same body, but the soul is missing."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "How well do you know this body?"

"I have fought beside Belekur before," he replied, completely missing her insinuation. It was probably better that way. "Rarely to bodies and souls separate completely. It worries me that such a thing could have happened at all."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure Belekur is up chilling in Ancient Warrior World. We just need to speak to the Valleys or whatever and get this all sorted out. Right?"

Gandalf opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed. "I will consult my colleague, Saruman the White. He is a great wizard and will be better prepared to deal with your case."

"Sounds good. Later." She walked away, then frowned ot herself. _Am I about to get pawned off to another wizard?_

Whatever was about to happen, things were finally starting to come together. This whole thing was just one big cosmic screw-up, though she wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.

Another question nagged at her, now that she'd considered it for the first time. Where was the real Belekur? _Must be pretty pissed. I would be, if my body got stolen_.

Before she could start stressing about it, a whistle caught her attention. Bofur, who was sitting near the fire with some of the other dwarves, waved her over.

Feeling just as nervous as the last time this had happened, Quinn walked over to the group and sat down. "Hi, guys."

"Hello, there. I was thinking, since you're now a totally different person and all, we should try the introductions again." He dipped his head, making the flaps on his hat bounce. "Bofur, at your service."

"Uh, Quinn...at your service." A small smile appeared on her face. Bofur seemed like a pretty cool guy. "Which reminds me, I need to ask you all something."

"What is it?"

"Could we do just one more time with the names? I've gotten maybe five of them, but I have a shit memory, and most of them rhyme, which doesn't help, so..."

Bofur and a few of the others chuckled at that, while some of the dwarves rolled their eyes. "Aye, I think we can humor you this once. But you'd best commit them to memory this time."

Quinn nodded. "I'll get them tattooed on my arm." This prompted a few more laughs.

After the dwarves were reintroduced, she had a better idea of who everyone was. The tattoo idea wasn't completely off the table, though.

"Now that that's out of the way…" Bofur took a draw from his pipe. "Why don't you tell us about yourself? The _real_ you."

 **What do you guys think? Is this all just a big mistake? And where is Belekur?**

 **And finally the not-knowing-name bs is over, which is a relief for me and hopefully for you as well.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn for the review!**

 **Please leave a review, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	9. Chase Scene

**Chapter 9: Chase Scene**

"...so at this point, I can't find my pants, the cops are breaking down the door, and George is literally trying to tear the ceiling fan down. And that's when I remember the taser."

Bilbo raised his hand. "Uh, what's a taser, again?"

"It's a device," Quinn demonstrated the shape and size with her hands, "That shocks people."

"It's a surprise?" Bofur asked.

"No, it's like—well, you guys have lightning here, right? It's like a small lightning bolt."

"Wouldn't that kill someone?"

"No, no. God, it's so hard explaining stuff to you guys."

Ori was staring at his journal, his brow scrunched together. Quinn really wanted to hand the poor guy some white-out. "I think I'm more confused than I was before."

"All right, change of plans." She slapped her hands on her thighs and sat up straighter. "I'll just tell you guys one of the stories from my world. This is from one of my favorite games. I feel like there needs to be some sort of conclusion to, uh…"

"Your ramblings for the past half hour?" Bilbo suggested.

"You got it." Quinn took a deep breath. This was a pretty simple story, and hopefully medieval enough that they would understand most of it. "So, imagine this: there's a dark cavern with a pool of water in the middle. And in that pool, a boy has been sleeping for a hundred years…"

The moon was high overhead by the time she finished the tale. The group had been pretty absorbed for most of it, only stopping her to clarify a few things. She gave herself a mental high-five. The Legend of Zelda had seemed like a pretty safe bet, since it didn't have aliens or cell phones or Octodads or anything else the group wouldn't be able to understand.

"So what happened to the kingdom after they defeated Calamity Ganon?" Fíli asked. "Were they able to rebuild?"

"Well, the story basically ends after he's defeated. But the assumption is that Hyrule will endure as a kingdom, and that it always has, despite all the disasters and floods and evil kings. In every game, there is always a Link to defeat the evil and save the kingdom. Even if he is a hundred years late sometimes."

Everyone fell silent, leaving only the crackling of their dying campfire. Quinn glanced to the side and noticed Thorin standing a little ways off, clearly listening to the story. He looked incredibly pensive, and turned away after a moment.

"Well," Bofur stood up and stretched. "Thank you for that marvelous tale. You've given us a lot to think about."

Some of the dwarves murmured their agreement, and everyone shuffled off to get some sleep. Quinn lay down and tucked her arms under her head, appreciating the stars she could see through the canopy above.

She was glad the dwarves had enjoyed the story. This was what she was actually good at—being an entertainer. How well that would serve a group of dragon-killing dwarves, she didn't know, but she figured they could all use a little levity on the road (some more than others).

She shook her head. _What are you talking about, Quinn?_ Earlier that day she'd been ready to scoot her ass down to Gandor. Thorin had made it clear he didn't want her staying with the Company, and she'd been fine with that. So why was she thinking about traveling with them?

At the very least, she could visit them once they'd finished reclaiming their home. If they survived the dragon. Quinn tried to comfort herself with that thought, though the latter part kept her awake longer than she would have liked.

* * *

"I'd like to know more about these Gorons you spoke of." As usual, Glóin made no introduction before saying whatever was on his mind.

Quinn looked down at him, surprised he'd decided to walk next to her after basically telling her to fuck off the previous day. "Oh, yeah?"

"You said they prefer to eat rocks?"

"They do. Not just any rocks, though. Some of them taste better than others, and some they can't eat at all."

"I've heard some humans believe that dwarves eat rocks." Fíli appeared on her other side, with Kíli not far behind.

"Can you?"

Glóin huffed and said, "We cannot eat rocks more than any other race. The stone is for mining and crafting, not eating."

"But you've never even, like, tried rock? Just out of curiosity?"

Fíli turned to his brother, who flushed red and said, "I was only a child!"

Quinn tried and failed to suppress her laughter. "Did it taste good?"

"I don't remember," Kíli said with a shrug. "I was only sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Her voice rose with disbelief, and she quickly lowered it. "That's a little old to be putting random things in your mouth."

"Another common misconception," Glóin said. "Dwarves mature more slowly than humans. At sixteen Kíli would have just been a wee lad."

"Really? So how long do you guys live for?"

"Two-hundred and fifty years, give or take a few decades," Fíli said.

If she'd been drinking something, she would have spat it out. "For real?"

"It is not for fake," Kíli said, making her laugh again.

A weird thought occurred to her. If sixteen was like being a baby to these guys, they were probably decades older than her. Even with the difference in maturity, they'd probably think she was a baby if they knew how old she was. _If I'm gonna hang with these guys, I might need to get another fake ID._

 _Won't be hanging with them for long_ , she corrected herself.

"Two hundred and fifty years," Quinn repeated, trying to move away from that thought. "That's over twice as long as most people live. Humans, that is."

"Aye, men live and expire in the blink of an eye," Glóin said. "I suppose that's why they breed like rats."

Dori turned around and shot him a look, but Quinn shrugged and smiled. The red-haired dwarf wasn't one to mince words, and she liked that. "Do any of you guys have kids?"

"Only Glói—" Fíli started, but the dwarf in question had already taking a locket from his person and shoving it in her face.

"I have a picture of my lad Gimli in here."

Carefully, Quinn took the locket and opened it. Inside were two detailed drawings of what she assumed were a couple of dwarves. _Right, because they don't have photographs_. She looked back and forth between both pictures. _Which one is Gimli?_ "Your son...looks very handsome."

Glóin beamed as she handed the locket back to him, apparently not noticing her confusion. "He was too young to come on this quest, but I've no doubt he'll be a great warrior when he comes of age."

She smiled. "So you reach adulthood when you're...what, fifty, or something?"

"How old are you, Quinn?" Kíli asked.

Fíli elbowed him. "You're not supposed to ask a woman that."

"It's cool," she said. "This body is probably thousands of years old, but it looks about thirty. Me personally, I'm just over twenty but I act like I'm ten."

"Was that a riddle I just heard?" Bofur asked over his shoulder. Next to him, Bilbo's ears perked up.

"No, that was something I spent an hour coming up with on the off chance someone asked me about my age."

More laughter from the group. Quinn found herself grinning along with them.

Maybe being an entertainer in this world could actually work.

* * *

At first, Quinn didn't register the howling of wolves at all. There were a ton of weird bird calls and noises in the woods, and the sound blended in as background noise.

Then Bilbo came sprinting through the trees, eyes wide. "Quinn!"

" _Dude!_ " She scrambled to lace up her pants. It sucked that this world hadn't invented zippers yet. "I'm trying to pee here!"

He waved a hand at her, not even bothering with an apology, and that's when she knew something was wrong. "Get down!"

Quinn hit the dirt, and Bilbo crouched down behind a rocky outcropping next to her. She strained her ears, waiting for arrows to start raining down on them.

Then she put two and two together. The howling noise had been from wargs, not wolves. She shot a questioning look at Bilbo, who gestured at something in the distance.

She propped herself up on one hand and peeked over the rocks. _Shit_. A group of wargs, most carrying mounts, were traversing a rocky slope about quarter mile away. "How the hell did they catch up to us already? Didn't we set most of them on fire?"

"I don't know. But we have to tell the others." Bilbo peeked over the rocks again and froze, his gaze focused on something just past Quinn's shoulder.

She stiffened as well. "What?"

He gestured with his chin for her to look, and she did. Just a few yards away, staring in the direction of the wargs, was another kind of beast. It was furry and walked on all fours, but its body was thicker and larger than the wargs'.

"Don't you have any, I don't know, _small_ animals in this world?" Quinn asked.

"Go, go!" He shoved at her arm, and followed her as they sprinted back towards their campsite.

The dwarves were already packed up and ready to go when they got back. Apparently they'd heard the howling and decided not to take any chances.

"You guys will never guess what we just saw," Quinn said as she approached.

"How close is the pack?" Thorin already had his sword drawn. The guy was _definitely_ not taking any chances.

"Too close," Bilbo said. "A couple of leagues, no more. But that's not the worst of it."

"Have the wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked.

"Not yet, but they will. We have another problem."

"We saw this giant fuckin' thing," Quinn added helpfully. A few of the dwarves turned to look at her.

Gandalf stepped forward and addressed Bilbo. "Did they see you? They saw you!" he concluded without giving him time to answer.

"No, that's not it," Bilbo said.

He smiled and looked around at the rest of the Company. "What did I tell you? Excellent burglar material. Quiet as a mouse."

"Do you think it was a giant mouse that we saw?" Quinn asked Bilbo. "I couldn't really tell. Thing had a lot of fur."

"Yes, please listen!" Bilbo raised his voice as the dwarves began to murmur. "We saw something else out there. Something big."

"Lot of fur," she repeated.

"What form did it take? That of a bear?" Gandalf asked.

She exchanged a glance with Bilbo, who shrugged. "Could be."

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur asked. When he received no answer, he said, "I say we double back."

"And be run down by a pack of orcs?" Thorin shook his head.

"Could we call the eagles again?" Quinn asked. No one answered.

"There is a house not far from here," Gandalf said, "where we could take refuge."

"Whose house is it?" Thorin asked. "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us," Gandalf replied.

"What choice do we have?"

The end of his question was cut off by a roar that echoed down into the glen where they'd made camp. Everyone put their hands on their weapons.

"None, at the moment." Gandalf gestured with his staff for them to start moving.

More running. Quinn would have begrudgingly accepted this any other day, but she still _really_ had to pee. After half an hour, she began to consider taking her chances with the giant bear.

Apparently what Gandalf had meant by "not far from here" was "a quick three hour run from here." Every time they thought they could slow up, another roar sounded from behind them, always just close enough to set their hearts pounding.

Eventually they broke through the trees and reached a field. In the middle of it stood a large, dark shape, and the wizard gestured to it with his staff. "To the house!"

As they drew closer, Quinn realized they were looking at a hedge, which fenced in the actual building. The tops of several trees were visible beyond the fence. They ran through the open gate set between two bushes, and sure enough, there was a large cottage waiting on the other side.

Another ground-shaking roar sounded from behind. Quinn turned and cursed as a large black bear burst through the trees and galloped towards them. She skidded to a halt and waited until everyone had made it inside, then closed the gate.

It probably wouldn't matter much—even if the gate did hold, a bear that size could probably just chew through the hedge like it was a mouthful of lettuce. But it wouldn't hurt to buy her friends some time.

She glanced back at the Company. They were all piled at the threshold and shouting, apparently having some trouble getting the door to the actual house open. Quinn turned back and looked around for something to use to bar the gates. The pounding of the bear's paws drew closer until she could feel the ground beneath her feet shaking. She braced one hand against the doors and tried to reach for a wooden plank with the other.

The doors flew open as the bear charged through with enough force to send Quinn flying. She crashed into a wooden structure, then hissed through her teeth as she realized she'd landed on top of a beehive. Large dark shapes began swarming around her, and she raised both hands. "I'm sorry, please don't sting me! Oh my god, even the bees are big."

Fortunately, the bees were the only creatures she had to contend with—the bear had raced past her and was trying to push its snout through the mostly-closed doors of the house. On the other side, the Company was shouting and trying to push the door closed.

After a few heart-pounding moments, they succeeded, which was good for them. The bear gave up on trying to bust the door and turned around, which was bad for Quinn. She stood up and faced the bear.

"Okay." She held out her hands defensively, not even considering drawing her sword. No way she'd be able to take down a bear, let alone a giant one. The bear gave a low growl and stepped towards her. Slowly, she lowered into a half-crouch, trying to remember how Chris Pratt had tamed the raptors in Jurassic World. It had to be the same principle, right?

Quinn glanced towards the door of the house. She'd be dead meat if she tried to sprint for it, and even if she did make it, there was still the question of whether the dwarves would let her in.

She took a step backwards, focusing on the bear. "Okay. Easy there. Good bear."

It growled again and began stalking towards her. She kept her shaking hands outstretched. A part of her reasoned that the bear would have lunged towards her now if it wanted to kill her, and another part screamed at her to make a break for it.

"The sun's going down… The sun's getting real low. You wanna go for the honey in that bee's nest? No? That's cool." Quinn couldn't force herself to take another step, as her legs were about one bear roar away from completely turning into jelly.

The bear continued advancing and gave another low growl. It stopped with its nose just inches from her hand...and sniffed it.

"Yup, that's my hand." She could feel her breaths getting lighter and faster. "That do anything for ya? Please don't bite it off."

For the first time, she looked past the sharp-teeth-filled snout and into the bear's eyes and saw a weird sort of intelligence gazing back. Like it was considering her. The bear grunted, almost like it had decided she wasn't worth eating, then turned and lumbered away.

As soon as it had disappeared past the hedge, Quinn sprinted for the house. She picked up a rock on the way and lobbed it at the nearest window. It sailed through open air, since the window apparently didn't have glass.

That was fine with her. She boosted herself up and tumbled inside, landing on her shoulders on a table, then falling flat on her back on the floor.

"Quinn!" Several of the dwarves rushed over.

Kíli knelt down next to her. "I thought we'd lost you."

"Nope, still alive." She sat up with a grimace. "Good news, I didn't piss myself. Bad news, I need to find the fucking bathroom _stat_."

* * *

"Wait, so the _bear_ owns this house? How is that possible?"

They were all seated in the living room, where a fire was blazing in the hearth, eating their first fresh meal in days from food Fíli and Bifur had found in the pantry. Quinn stared at Balin as he filled her in on what Gandalf had told them while she'd been outside.

"His name is Beorn," Balin said, taking a sip from his mug of ale. "A skin-changer, Gandalf explained. He can shapeshift from a man to a bear, and back again."

"So you guys have shapeshifters in this world?" She sat up and grinned. "That's awesome."

"Do you have them in your world as well?" Glóin asked.

"Nope. Like I said earlier, no magic. But I've always thought that sort of thing was pretty cool." She drank from her own mug. It was sweeter than what she was used to drinking, but still good. "Okay, around the room. If you could pick one animal to shapeshift into, what would it be?"

Several of the dwarves raised their eyebrows at her question, then a few began to ponder it.

Surprisingly, it was Bifur who first spoke up, though she didn't understand a word of what he said. Bofur had explained to her earlier that the axe embedded in his head prevented him from speaking the Common Speech, though all the dwarves could understand whatever language he spoke instead.

"My cousin says he'd want to be a dog," Bombur said.

"Good choice," Quinn smiled at Bifur. The whole axe thing was pretty badass. It sucked that it had messed up his brain, though.

"I think I'd like to be a bird of some sort," Bilbo said. "I'd be able to see a great many things, and be able to get around easily enough."

"Would you want to be a giant eagle, or a regular bird?"

"I don't know. Probably a regular bird. I don't suppose I'd want to be swooping into burning hillsides all the time."

A few of the dwarves laughed at that.

"I think I'd like to change into a raven," Ori said, and all the dwarves nodded approvingly. Quinn shrugged at that. Maybe dwarves had a thing for ravens.

"There's nothing I'd rather be than a dwarf," Glóin said, puffing his chest out. Dori nodded in agreement.

"Lame," she said.

He crossed his arms. "And what would you rather be, ancient warrior?"

"I'd want to be an emu. Do you guys have emus here?" She received several shakes of the head. "Well, emus are another type of big bird. They're like...they look a little like giant geese, I guess?" A few nods of understanding. "Yeah, they won a war against us once."

Dwalin stopped acting like he wasn't listening to the conversation and leaned forward. "You're saying a bunch of birds won against an army of humans?"

"Oh, yeah, down in Australia. That's one of the countries...or kingdoms, I guess, in my world. A bunch of emus were eating crops so the military went in and tried to kill the birds, but they lost."

"This isn't another story of yours, is it?" Nori asked.

"Nope, completely serious. Australia is wild. Every animal there tries to kill you. Do you guys have a place like that here?"

A few of the dwarves exchanged glances. "Mordor," Glóin said.

"Sure. Australia is the Mordor of my world." Quinn took a sip of her ale and sighed. "God, I could really go for a joint right now."

"A joint?"

She sat up a bit straighter. "Yeah, wait, do you guys have weed here? Like, the kind you smoke?"

"Aye, I've got some right here," Bofur held out his pipe to her.

She sniffed it and shook her head. "That's straight tobacco. I'm talking about _weed_. Like marijuana."

He frowned and took back his pipe. "This is pipeweed."

"Another language difference." She shrugged. "I'll just get krunk instead."

Ori shot his brother a questioning glance.

"Language difference," Nori said.

* * *

There was a very big man in the backyard.

Quinn stopped in the doorway. She'd woken up before everyone else (thankfully with no hangover—being in an ancient warrior's body had its perks) and decided to head out and let them get some sleep.

The last thing she'd expected to find was a huge, hairy, shirtless man chopping wood in the backyard.

"Hi," she said, drawing the syllable out as she stepped out of the door. Was this the bear dude? He definitely looked like a bear.

Bear Dude (What was his name? Something that sounded like bear.) stopped chopping wood and set the butt of his axe on the ground, but did not turn to face her.

She stepped closer. He was seriously huge, towering at least two feet taller than she was. His bare back had a few scars on it, and a thick mane of hair ran down his spine.

"Are you a lumberjack?"

He rested both hands on the end of his axe. "I know not what a lumberjack is. I am Beorn. And who are you?"

"Hi, Beorn." She bit her lip, then decided to throw away the ancient warrior stuff altogether. Pretending to be Belekur was too much to keep up with, anyway. "I'm Quinn."

At this, he finally turned around, taking the axe with him. His chest, too, was covered in scars, but weirdly smooth. Her eyes traveled farther upwards. His beard was frizzy and a tawny brown shot with gray. And the rest of his face…

"Jesus Christ, your eyebrows."

Beorn raised one of the hairy monstrosities.

"Uh, I mean—" Quinn held up her hands. The axe he was holding could probably split her down the middle. "Cool...hair?"

"What do you want?"

"Not much." She was beginning to wish she'd waited for the others. She needed more axes on her team. "Sorry for, uh, locking you out of your house yesterday. And taking your food. And thanks for not killing me."

Beorn's eyes narrowed in recognition. "I remember you."

"From outside the house, yeah. When you didn't kill me. I remember that, too. Oh, and sorry for attempting to break one of your windows after you left." _Stop talking, Quinn_. "It didn't work, because apparently none of your windows have glass, which I guess is cool. You've got a very…" She gestured around them. "Natural vibe here." A clucking noise sounded near her feet, and she looked down. "And you got real chickens too!"

Quinn nearly jumped out of her skin as Beorn threw back his head and gave a loud, rumbling laugh. "Still babbling like an idiot, as you were yesterday," he said between chuckles. "Tell me, do I frighten you, little one?"

"Little one?" Quinn blinked, then remembered she was no longer the tallest person in the metaphorical room. "Well, depends. What are you planning to do with that axe?"

"This," he hefted the tool in question, "is for chopping wood." He pivoted to place another log on the stump where he was cutting them. "I would not use such a tool on my enemies."

"I guess the whole bear thing probably does the job, right?" She took a seat on another stump, figuring she was in the clear.

"Indeed." Beorn glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then swung his axe into the log. "I originally transformed because I was hunting a pack of orcs."

"Well, that's great. 'Cause we're actually enemies of those orcs, too. So we're technically on the same side. An enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that."

"How do you know of Azog?"

"Who?"

"The Pale Orc."

"Oh, him." Quinn shrugged. "I don't really know him. He's just hunting our group. I think he has some beef with Thorin." At Beorn's questioning glance, she said, "Thorin's the leader."

His eyes narrowed. "Is he a dwarf?"

"Uh." Did Beorn not like dwarves the way elves did? Was that why he'd tried to attack them earlier in bear-form, but had left her alone? "Physically, yes. Mentally, also yes. Spiritually—"

Before she could start rambling again, Gandalf walked out of the house and made his way over to the pair. He nodded to Quinn. "Ah, Belekur. I see you have already met our host."

She waved him off. "I already told him my real name."

"I see." He gave another, stiffer nod. She wondered if he was still partially in denial about the whole ancient-warrior-idiot-mixup.

Beorn jerked his chin towards the wizard. "And who are you?"

"I'm Gandalf. Gandalf the Gray." He smiled and bowed his head.

"Never heard of him."

Quinn rested her chin on her hand. _Wow. Even I've heard of Gandalf, and I'm not even from this world_.

"I'm a wizard. Perhaps you've heard of my colleague, Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood."

"What do you want?"

"Well, simply to thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed that we took refuge in your lodgings here last night."

Quinn stopped herself from mentioning that she'd already said all that as Gandalf turned to gesture at the house, revealing Bilbo, who had been basically hiding behind the wizard. She chuckled and waved to him, but his wide-eyed gaze was locked onto Beorn's massive figure. She didn't really blame him—the size difference was big enough that he probably could have picked Bilbo up and chucked him like a football.

"Who is this little fellow?" Beorn's eyes locked onto the little dude in return.

"This is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire." Gandalf placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, he's the baddest habit…" She stopped as Bilbo shook his head. "Uh, hobbit, on this side of the Misty Mountains."

"So he's not a dwarf?" Beorn asked.

 _Yep, definitely getting a dwarf-hating vibe from this dude._

Gandalf gave a very unconvincing laugh. "Why, no!"

Quinn held up a hand, drawing Beorn's attention towards herself. It was better to nip this kind of issue in the bud. Once the dwarves came outside, he'd have a whole clown car's worth of his least favorite race in his backyard, and she didn't want him to start swinging his axe in some kind of racist panic.

"So, I'm going to put a hypothetical situation out there, and you tell me how you'd react. Let's say there was a group of dwarves in the house, right now."

"How many dwarves?"

"Well, see, that's up to you. 'Cause remember, this situation is very hypothetical. So how many dwarves would have to come out of that house for you to get, like, really pissed—I mean, angry. Give me a rough estimate."

Beorn turned to glare at Gandalf. "What is this, wizard?"

"Are we talking ten? Twenty? Five?"

Gandalf spread his palms. "Well, I must confess that several of our group are, in fact, dwarves."

"Do you call two several?"

 _Where'd he get two from?_ Quinn turned back to the door just as Balin and Dwalin made their way into the yard. They smiled and nodded at Beorn, who raised his axe.

"Woah, woah, woah." She raised a hand again, but he made no move to attack.

"Well, there are certainly more than two in our group," Gandalf said, making a show of counting on his fingers.

Over the next few minutes, the dwarves trickled out of the house in pairs and introduced themselves, and Beorn gradually went from pissed to resigned as his axe got lower and lower to the ground.

Once all thirteen dwarves were standing in the yard, he said, "Well, then, come inside, all of you. We must discuss why you are here."

Quinn caught up to Gandalf as everyone filed back inside. "So, was the plan to send everyone out in pairs? Classic move. Tell the host only a few people are coming, then next thing you know, there's thirty of them in the backyard."

"Hm. Yes, that strategy has often worked quite well," Gandalf said.

Next to them, Bilbo's eyes widened in realization, then he scowled. She decided to ask him about that later.

If Beorn noticed that they had totally raided his pantry the previous night, he said nothing and gave them more food. The dwarves either stood around the room or sat at the enormous dining room table, which made them look like hairy, muscular toy dolls.

Quinn broke off a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth. "God, I miss fried mac n' cheese."

"Who is that?" Óin pointed his ear trumpet towards her.

" _What_ is that?" Bombur asked.

"Something from your home world?" Glóin added.

"Yeah." She sighed and rested her chin on her palm, wondering if she even should have brought it up. The dwarves didn't recognize most of the things she referenced, and it could get tiring explaining things like soda and cars and Matt Damon.

"Something that's fried...with cheese," Bilbo said. He was usually pretty good at translating whatever she said, and sometimes they would make a game out of it. "What is mac?"

"Noodles." Quinn looked around the table. "You guys have those here?" Everyone shook their heads.

"I don't believe I've ever fried cheese," Bombur said. "Is it good?"

"Fuck yeah," she said around another mouthful of cheese. "We gotta cook together sometime."

They chattered about food for a while, though everyone quieted down when Beorn entered the room. Quinn blinked. She hadn't even noticed the guy leave, and he was pretty hard to miss.

Beorn scanned the room, then addressed Thorin, who was standing by a pillar next to the table. "So you are Thorin." He glanced at Quinn for a brief moment, then looked back at the dwarf. "I hear Azog the Defiler is hunting you."

Thorin straightened. "How do you know of Azog?"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved."

Quinn's gaze fell to the metal shackle around one wrist, where a couple of chain links were still attached. Now it looked like less of an edgy fashion statement and more like...an actual shackle.

Beorn continued, "Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"There are others like you?" Bilbo asked.

"Once there were many."

She frowned and hunched her shoulders. _I know where this is going._

"And now?" Bilbo shifted in his seat as he asked, as though he was afraid of the answer.

"Now, there is only one."

 _Damn_. Beorn had it pretty rough. Quinn guessed she'd grow her eyebrows out too if all that shit happened to her.

He turned to Gandalf. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn, yes?"

"Before Durin's Day," the wizard replied.

She realized they were talking about quest stuff that didn't really apply to her, so she fell into thoughts about her own home and family. If what Gandalf said was true, she'd never see any of it again. Her friends, her parents, her PS4...everything was just reduced to memories now.

Quinn stood up, trying to do so quietly, though that didn't work out since she was second tallest in the room. When Kíli shot her a questioning glance, she mumbled, "Sad hours. Be right back," and walked outside.

 **A few Legend of Zelda references in this chapter. I deleted all my fics about it, but I'm still a huge ho for Zelda. I hope some of you are fans too! Speaking of video games,** **Quinn's little riddle about her age was inspired by a similar line in the book Blood of Elves. Because I definitely need more Witcher references in my fics.**

 **So what kind of animal would the other members of the Company be? I would have done all of them, but this plot has to go somewhere... Also fun fact: The Great Emu War is real bitches! Go look it up! (And apologies to any Australians reading this for the Mordor comparison. Your country is dope)**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn, and Guest186 for the reviews.**

 **Please review for this chapter, I would really appreciate it! Until next time!**


	10. Weapon Abilities

**Chapter 10**

"Quinn?"

She sat up from where she'd been lying on her back and looked around. "Who said that? God?"

The long grass rustled, then parted to reveal Kíli. "Just me."

"Hey. How'd you find me?" After leaving the dining room, she'd wandered around the grounds until she'd come across a patch of tall grass. It had seemed like a good, private place to lie down and feel sorry for herself.

"You left a trail." He pointed to the flattened grass she'd left while fighting through the patch.

"Oh, yeah. Well, surprise!" She held out her hands. "A wild Quinn appeared!"

Kíli shook his head and sat down next to her. "Are you all right? You seemed a little upset back at the house."

"Upset? Who said that?"

" _You_ said something about...sad hours."

"Right." She leaned back on her palms. "Well, that is just an expression we use in my world. It just means—"

"A time that you're sad." Kíli looked her in the eye. "Right?"

So it wasn't just Bilbo who was beginning to learn her language. She shrugged and dropped her gaze to her boots. "I think it was just Beorn talking about how he's the last of his kind and all. That stuff just kind of gets me down."

"I understand." He nodded. "It must be a terrible fate, to be alone like that."

"Yeah." She blew out a long breath and decided to try and change the subject. "You know, I actually have a pretty good story about that. It's called The Last Airbender. Remind me to tell it to you guys later."

Kíli's eyes brightened. "I'd like that. But in the meantime, I think I know what might cheer you up."

Quinn shrugged. As long as they were moving on from "let's talk about our feelings" to "let's cheer up and do other things," she was cool with it. "Okay."

They pushed their way through the tall grass and walked back to the house. As they got closer, the clash of steel became audible.

"Sparring always helps me relieve stress," Kíli said cheerfully. "And I still want to see how you do with that sword of yours."

"Hold on, we're doing what now?" Quinn looked up as they rounded the corner. A handful of dwarves were watching as Fíli and Dwalin fought. The former had his twin swords, while the latter used twin axes. With their speed and strength, it was pretty impressive to watch.

When Fíli caught sight of them, he signaled for Dwalin to pause, and the two lowered their weapons. He grinned at his brother. "Brought someone new to spar with us?"

"Don't waste your time," Thorin said, stepping forward. "This is about improving your skills, not fooling around."

"Hey, now." Quinn spread her hands. "If you don't want them wasting their time, then why don't _you_ fight me?" _Oh my god, why did I say that?_

Fíli's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and Kíli made a choking noise. The rest of the dwarves stared as the area fell silent.

"This should be good," Dwalin muttered.

Thorin strode forward, expressionless. "Draw your weapon."

Almost in unison, everyone stepped back to give them room.

Quinn took a deep breath, trying to rationalize the fact that she was probably about to die for the second time. Maybe Thorin was just an okay warrior. He hadn't done that great against Azog, so maybe he was weak against really tall people. Not that she was actually aiming to hurt him.

She drew her weapon.

As it turned out, height had very little to do with winning. It was very much a "Peter Dinklage beats the shit out of Buddy the Elf" moment for Quinn. She didn't even get the chance to so much as swing her sword before she was on the ground with a bruised gut, Thorin's sword inches from her throat.

"The fuck just happened?" she wheezed.

He took his sword away. "You have no skill with the blade. And you have no place traveling or fighting amongst us."

"We been knew," Quinn said, propping herself on her elbows with a wince.

"When we leave for Mirkwood, you'll stay here," Thorin continued. "Where you go from there, I care not." With that, he sheathed his sword and walked away.

 _Theater kid. Definitely a theater kid_. Quinn stood up and brushed herself up. She walked over to retrieve her sword from where it had somehow ended up a few feet away. "Yeah, I feel pretty stress relieved now," she said to a wide-eyed Kíli. "Glad I got some practice with this thing." Casually, she swung her sword.

A blinding flash had her reeling backwards. Once Quinn was able to blink the spots out of her eyes, she was startled to find a gash cut into the earth in front of her. Bits of singed grass floated through the air. The others were staring at the spot as well, mouths hanging open.

Beorn walked out of the house, followed by Gandalf. "What just happened?"

Quinn finally found her voice. "I cut your grass, I'm sorry!"

Gandalf sighed and looked like he was refraining from rubbing his forehead. "I see you've discovered your sword's...abilities."

"Abilities?" She looked down at the blade. It was glowing slightly, the same way it had the night they'd been attacked by Azog.

"Thannas, your sword, was forged using a special steel long forgotten by man. It is the Sword of Light, and can absorb the light of the sun and moon and create rays of power."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier?" Quinn grinned and lifted her sword so the tip was pointing up. "Hell yeah, Skyward Sword!"

Everyone began yelling at her to put it away.

* * *

"...But then Zhao firebends into the pond and kills the Moon Spirit. And the moon just vanishes from the sky."

Bilbo's mouth fell open. "Wait, are you saying he killed the _moon_?"

After making sure no one was in danger of being cut open by Quinn's laser sword, Kíli had requested that she tell The Last Airbender story that she'd promised. The two of them, along with Bilbo, Glóin, Ori, and Fíli, were seated on the grass outside Beorn's house as she recounted the tale.

"Yeah. So now the waterbenders can't do anything, because they lost their source of power. So then Iroh jumps in and—"

"Lads!" Dori called, walking towards their group. "Time to go. We've got the ponies all saddled up."

Her head shot up. "What?" She looked around as everyone climbed to their feet. "Shit, you guys are leaving already?"

"Aye, we're off to Mirkwood," Glóin said. "You be sure to visit us once we've reclaimed the mountain." He gave her a very firm handshake and walked away with Dori.

"I'd very much like to hear the end of that story," Ori said, then hurried to catch up with his brother.

"Y-Yeah." She looked down at Bilbo, Fíli, and Kíli. "Well, uh, you take care of yourselves, okay?"

"We will." Fíli nodded. "And I will try to remember this...secret handshake that you taught us."

"My man." Quinn fistbumped him, and grinned when he successfully returned it. She took a deep breath. "All right. Well. I won't keep you guys any longer. Adios. Ciao. Sayonara. Those all mean goodbye in my world."

Kíli smiled almost shyly and said, " _Rasup gamut ai-menu._ That is how we say farewell among dwarves."

"And in the Shire, we say goodbye," Bilbo said.

"Good to know. And best of luck on the whole dragon thing." Quinn walked with them to the ponies and watched them all mount. "Godspeed, gentlemen." She saluted them. Ori hesitantly returned the gesture.

Thorin called for them to move on, and they all set off eastward. She watched until they disappeared into the trees on the other side of the field, then let out a long sigh.

"I will follow them at a distance," Beorn said from behind her, making her jump. How did the seven-foot bear-man keep sneaking around like that? "And keep the orcs away until they reach Mirkwood."

"Cool." Quinn cleared her throat as her voice came out weirdly hoarse.

"If I were you, I would stay near the house until I return. The orcs will not attack you here."

"Sounds good." She pulled her sword partially out of its sheath. As soon as the sunlight hit the blade, it began to glow. "I still gotta figure out how to use this thing, anyway."

"When I return," Beorn gave her a stern look, "I expect my house to be intact."

Quinn put her sword back. "Yessir."

With that, he took off at a run in the direction the Company had gone. Once he was a good distance away from the house, his form changed, fur sprouting and growing until it was a bear galloping across the field. Two small shapes fell into the grass, and Quinn realized it was his tunic and pants.

"That's gotta be annoying." She walked back to the house.

* * *

Quinn stared up the ceiling, then sneezed violently as another scrap of straw floated into her face. She was lying in the small stables connected to the house, completely blanking on what she was supposed to do until Beorn got back.

There was absolutely nothing cool in the house. Its cluttered appearance was mostly random crap—sacks of onions, coils of rope, beeswax candles, more sacks and pots and jars—nothing that proved entertaining in the slightest. There was a chess board on one of the shelves, but she wasn't _that_ bored.

One hand went down to touch the hilt of her sword. Beorn had told her not to level the house swinging it around, but she still wanted to try to make at least one more sword laser. Maybe she could find a secluded spot in the woods to practice later.

And after that...what? Plan A was going south and seeing what the entertainment business was like there. Plan B definitely involved something with her laser sword.

At some point she'd have to visit the Company and hang with them. Quinn smiled to herself. She wouldn't mind living in Erebor and telling stories for a living.

She kinda missed the dwarves already.

Quinn sighed and pushed herself up, brushing straw out of her hair. There had to be something here that would keep her mind off of that. She walked out of the stables, patting the head of one of the ox-like creatures as she passed. Maybe she could throw together something to eat while she waited. She shook her head at the chessboard as she passed. _Not today_.

Just as she was about to enter the pantry, the front door creaked open.

She turned around. "Hey, I was wondering when you were going to—WOAH!" Quinn jumped back, then she recovered and her eyes snapped up to stare at the ceiling. "Uh, I'm guessing you didn't find your clothes out in the field?"

"I'll look for them later," Beorn said, striding through the house completely naked.

Quinn grimaced, then shrugged. _I guess this is his house, his rules_. "So, everyone made it safely to Markwood?"

"Mirkwood."

"Yeah, that. They got there all right?" She headed over to the pantry and started rummaging through it.

"I left them at the border of the forest. The orcs will not follow them inside."

"Cool." Quinn picked up a hunk of cheese and wondered how it would taste breaded and fried. She still had to introduce Bombur to the magic of mozzarella sticks. She sighed and put the cheese back.

"I see everything is still intact," Beorn said from somewhere else in the house.

"Yeah, I'm just keeping my sword put away for now," she replied (and wished he would do the same). "I actually got so bored I started being productive. I fixed the beehive I knocked over and fed the chickens. Oh, and I threw out the rock I tried to use to break your window."

"Did you now?" The floorboards creaked as Beorn approached. "How would you like to stay a while? I could use an extra hand."

"Oh, yeah?" She turned around and sighed, immediately focusing her eyes on the doorframe. "Do you want, like, a towel or something? To cover up?"

"Does my appearance offend you?"

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. _Am I stuck in the worst porn intro ever, or what?_ "Yeah, I just don't think we're at that stage yet."

Beorn shrugged and walked out, presumably to go find some clothes.

"And yeah," she called after him. "I'll stay awhile."

* * *

"Oh my god, I'm gonna fall and break my neck. Again."

Quinn grit her teeth, her muscles straining to keep her balance. She was on the roof, one foot braced against the chimney and the other bent under her. A basket full of supplies was precariously balanced under one arm.

Beorn had tasked her with roof repair, of all things. What he hadn't mentioned was that his roof was basically all grass, and that said grass was very slippery.

Not that she was complaining about the situation in general. Playing farm hand for a while seemed like a better option than setting out with no idea where she was actually going.

Also, there was free food involved if she stayed at Beorn's.

"Okay." She perched the basket on top of the chimney and straddled the peak of the roof. The first hole Beorn had pointed out was about halfway down one side. She just had to patch it with some wood and cover it with some sort of mesh that the grass would eventually use to take root. The trick was finding a way to do that without sliding down and smashing her face on the ground below.

At any rate, it was easier than round two with a group of stone giants.

About half an hour later, Beorn came outside and looked up at her. "How goes it?"

Quinn tried not to cringe. She was still stuck on the first hole. "It goes." One hand was clutching the ridge of the roof so she wouldn't slide down, leaving her with one hand to use for wood, hammer and nails. Needless to say, it was _barely_ going. "So, is there a reason your roof is covered in _grass_? Was that intentional or no?"

"I believe it is part of my...how did you say it...natural vibe."

"That's fair." She adjusted her grip on the roof. "This is some slippery grass, though."

"Take off your shoes."

She opened her mouth to ask why, then figured he was probably giving her advice. At this point, she'd do a handstand if it meant she'd be done with this stupid roof. She pulled herself up to sit on the ridge and slid her boots and socks off, placing them beside her. They immediately slid down the grass, one of them knocking the hammer down as well.

"God dammit."

"Now you will have an easier time navigating the roof," Beorn said. He picked up the hammer and threw it up to her.

"Holy shit!" Quinn dodged the heavy projectile, then reached back and grabbed it as it landed on the roof behind her. "You trying to kill me, Hammer Bro?"

"You seem to find my household tools quite threatening," he said, then walked back inside.

Quinn shook her head and went back to work. It was a little easier to grip the surface with her bare feet and keep her balance, and once she got the hang of it, things started to go a little faster.

Beorn wasn't really one to speak much, and seemed to be content with doing his own thing. He gave pretty good advice and sometimes found her funny. Back in her world, he probably would have made a good roommate.

"Finally." She sighed as she finished patching up the first hole. "Call me Fix-It Felix." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

She reached over for the basket and swore as she accidentally knocked the whole thing off the roof.

* * *

"So, I'm looking for the white mushrooms with the red spots."

"The red mushrooms with the white spots."

"Got it." She switched the empty sack from one hand to the other. "Don't worry. This is not my first time collecting mushrooms. Red with white spots. If I find any green ones, do you want them, too?"

Beorn shook his head. "The green ones are poisonous."

"Oh. Good to know." They reached a small cluster of trees near the edge of his property and paused.

"This is where I leave you," he said. "Stay on this side of the stream. If you cross over the borders of my land, I cannot guarantee the orcs will not attack you."

Quinn settled her hands on her hips, a few fingers brushing the hilt of her sword. "You think they're still close by?"

He scowled. "It is possible. I tracked a group headed in the direction of Dol Guldur, but their scent is old. Where they are now, I cannot be sure. Most likely they will try to head the dwarves off on the other side of the forest."

"The hell is Dol Guldur?"

"It is an old fortress in the southern reaches of Mordor. The orcs have made their nest there, along with a dark sorcerer."

Quinn paused in visualizing Azog and his buddies sitting in a huge straw nest and looked up. "Sorcerer? Like Gandalf?"

"No. This Necromancer is something far darker. His power has caused fell things and a strange sickness to spread across the forest."

She frowned as Beorn stared towards the south, lost in thought. The guy seemed content to mind his own business, but apparently he had worries about this Necromancer as well. She guessed she'd be stressed too, if she lived down the street from a guy who could raise the dead.

"I'm sure someone will take care of the sorcerer eventually," she said. _Lord knows it's not gonna be me_. "In the meantime," she held up the sack, "I'm gonna get some mushrooms."

"You remember which ones?"

"Yeah. Purple with black stripes."

Beorn narrowed his eyes, though a smile twitched on his lips.

"I'm kidding. I know it's the white ones with the red spots."

He sighed and shook his head, then went back to the house.

 **That Buddy the Elf joke was like the second thing I came up with when I was planning this story. And I had to wait ten chapters to finally use it. Also,** **I hope you guys got the Avatar reference. If you don't/haven't watched that show, I don't know what to tell you.**

 **And if any roof repairmen are reading this fic and would like to point out any inaccuracies I've made, feel free to do so!** **I also don't know if the Khuzdul in this chapter is entirely correct, so if there are any dwarves reading this story, feel free to correct me as well.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn, Guest, and Guest186 for the reviews. Please feel free to leave a comment on this chapter too, as I really appreciate it and it helps me out a lot. Until next time!**


	11. Continue?

**Chapter 11: Continue?**

"Now I get why chainsaws are a thing."

Quinn heaved a sigh and swung the axe again. She grimaced as it sunk into the tree trunk a few inches below where she was supposed to be chopping. Beorn's giant axe wasn't that hard to lift with her ancient warrior strength, but actually handling it properly was another thing. Just because she had jacked muscles didn't mean she actually knew how to use them.

She looked around. Beorn was nowhere to be found—probably off churning butter or something. Quinn propped the axe against another one of the trees in the small wood at the edge of the property. Slowly, she drew her sword and held it out in front of her. A small beam of light fell from between two branches and onto the blade. The same glow from before illuminated the steel.

Holding it with both hands, Quinn turned back to the tree she'd been working on and took aim.

"What do you think you're doing?"

" _Jesus_." She stiffened and lowered her blade, turning to look at Beorn, who was standing next to the axe with his arms crossed. "You sure you don't have the power of teleportation too?"

He ignored that. "Has this axe not served your purpose well enough?" he asked, picking it up. "Or are you so afraid of my tools that you refuse to use them?"

"I'm not afraid of your axe, buddy. Just a little out of practice." She glanced back at the tree, which had cuts in about five separate places. "Can I please?" Carefully, she indicated her sword. "Just this once?"

Beorn stared at her for a moment, then said, "Go ahead. I'll admit, I'm curious as well as to what this blade of yours can do."

"That's what I like to hear!" She grinned and turned back to the tree. Raising her sword like a baseball bat, she planted her feet and swung.

A blinding flash of light shot out and struck the tree, leaving a long, slightly singed slash through the wood. Quinn whooped and rushed over to look at her work. The sword had cut about three quarters of the way through the trunk.

She turned back to Beorn. "How about that?"

He didn't seem to think it was that cool. With a mostly neutral expression, he walked over and planted both hands on the trunk, then began to push.

 _Wow_. Dude sure had some biceps.

The tree tipped over and crashed into the brush. Beorn stepped back and brushed some loose pieces of bark from his hands. "Now we must chop the tree into smaller pieces and carry it back to the house."

She hefted her sword again. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

"No." He handed her the axe. "You're going to use this."

"Why?"

"Because you're bad at it."

"And isn't that...oh." Quinn sheathed her sword and reached out to take the axe. "You want me to get better."

"Yes."

"So when you said _we_ were going to be chopping up this tree," she adjusted her grip on the handle, "you really just meant me."

Beorn grinned, and it made his face look a little less like a grumpy lumberjack's. "Precisely."

"Unless you want to try out my sword…?" When he shook his head, she asked, "Do you know how to use a sword?"

"I can turn into a giant bear."

"Oh, right." She raised the axe and brought it down on the trunk. From this angle, it was a little easier to control her swing. Maybe she'd be able to show off her axe-wielding skills to Glóin when she met up with the Company again.

"Focus on where you are trying to strike, not the axe itself," Beorn said.

As she went along, her aim began to improve, and the work started going along a little faster.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Beorn still standing there and watching her. Heat crawled up her neck that had nothing to do with the physical labor. Was he waiting for her to mess up or something?

She'd seen him chop logs in half with a single stroke before. He could probably get this tree done in half the time she was taking, big biceps and all. The dude was seriously built.

Once she was done, Quinn straightened and wiped sweat from her forehead. "Well? Am I a certified lumberjack now?"

"You have yet to explain to me what that is." Beorn walked over to one of the log segments and picked it up.

Quinn followed his example and hefted another segment with a grunt. "A lumberjack is someone who chops wood. You kinda remind me of one because you live in the middle of nowhere by yourself. And you chop wood sometimes."

He began walking back to the house, and she hurried to catch up with him. "And what else did you call me? When I threw the hammer at you?"

"Oh, Hammer Bro?" She stifled a laugh. "It's a turtle who throws hammers." She glanced up at him. "Hey, can you turn into other animals besides a bear?"

Beorn shook his head. "I only have two forms: a bear and a man."

"Okay. Can I actually ask you another question about that?"

He nodded.

"So, you're, like, the last of your kind, right?"

He nodded again, his expression darkening slightly.

"And you can turn into a bear, right?" she continued, hurrying away from that sensitive topic. "And there's probably other bears around here too. So…" She shot him a questioning glance.

Beorn stared at her blankly.

"I'm saying, could you...you know…" Her lips twitched as she tried to hold back her laughter. She was about to tell him to forget about it when his neutral expression finally cracked.

And he burst into laughter.

Quinn laughed along with him, feeling relieved. "I mean…shit." She adjusted her grip on the log as it began to slip from her hands. "Has it ever, like, crossed your mind?"

Beorn's voice was loud and mirthful. "You are asking me if I would invite another bear into my bed?"

"Oh, so you're doing it in the _bed_? That sounds kind of dangerous. I feel like it would break."

"You have quite the vivid imagination. What else were you thinking of when you were chopping wood?"

"Uh, nothing." Her face heated up. "I'm not always thinking about weird stuff like bear sex." _Change the subject, Quinn._ "What do _you_ think about when you're chopping wood?"

Beorn just grinned at her.

They'd reached the house at this point, and she set down her log with a sigh. "So, I'm guessing the whole bear thing is a no."

"It is."

"All right, I got one more question for ya." Quinn settled her hands on her hips and looked up at him. "Do you invite...other things into your bed?"

* * *

The sound of crickets drifted through the open window. Technically, Beorn's windows were always open, but it did provide nice ambience. Quinn wondered what he did when it rained.

It was nighttime, but she couldn't sleep. Her thoughts kept straying back to the dwarves—where they were, if they were safe, what their plan was for defeating the dragon now that the ancient warrior gig was off the table. She also had the Charlie Brown theme song stuck in her head, for some reason, and that wasn't really helping her relax.

"Do you think they made it through Mirkwood yet?" she asked, turning her head.

For a moment, she thought Beorn was asleep, his bare chest rising and falling gently, but he responded a second later, "It will likely take them a few weeks to pass through. Even if they take the Elven Road, the path through the forest is long."

Quinn shifted and frowned. "You said something about a necromancer in the forest. Are they going to have to fight him?"

"Dol Guldur is many leagues south of their road. But the sorcerer's influence has impacted a large area of the forest. I warned them of the giant spiders and an enchanted stream they will have to cross. As long as they stay on the path and do not provoke the wood elves, they will make it through safely."

 _Giant spiders. Enchanted stream. Stay on the path. Wood elves._ "So this is one of those forests where, if you make one wrong step, you'll get lost forever?"

"Exactly. Did you have those in your home world?"

"Eh...sort of."

"And you plan on going after them."

"What?" Quinn propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him. "Who?"

"The Company. You plan on going after them," Beorn said. It struck her how patient he was with her, compared to most people.

It wasn't easy to put up with someone who was always bullshitting, like she was doing right now. She had been mulling over the idea for most of the days she had spent at Beorn's, though she technically hadn't made the decision to go through with it yet.

Quinn sighed and flopped back down onto the bed. "I'm a completionist. I start a game, I finish it. It doesn't feel right for me not to see this thing all the way through."

"Why don't you?"

"I mean, Thorin kind of fired me." At his questioning glance, she added, "He doesn't want me working with his group anymore. And it's not like I'd be able to do much to help them." She wasn't sure if the Company would even accept her help if she showed up again.

"You care about the dwarves."

"Well, I...yeah." Quinn fought the urge to start fidgeting. She was staring to remember why she hated pillow talk.

"You have something you believe in, and a means to accomplish it. If you want to see these dwarves safe, then you must act upon your wishes."

That was simple enough. And it gave her a reason to go through what should have been Plan A all along. "You know what? You should be a motivational speaker."

"I believe I already am. I have spoken in a motivational fashion, have I not?"

Quinn laughed and closed her eyes, resting her hands on her stomach. "That's the spirit."

* * *

Beorn already had a pack of supplies and a horse ready the next morning. As they walked towards the edge of the property, he quizzed her on his warnings about Mirkwood.

"What should you do when you reach the stream?"

"Don't...go in it?"

He nodded. "White webbing on the trees means…"

"Giant spiders." Quinn patted the sword at her hip. "Attack the underbelly. Just like Skulltulas."

"And the poisonous mushrooms are…"

"I got this, man! Don't worry about it!" She gave him a light shove on the arm, which of course did nothing. "You've been a big help."

Beorn glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I hope your tasks these past few days have been useful to you as well."

"Yeah, they—" Quinn blinked. He hadn't just been giving her chores. He'd been trying to teach her how to fend for herself. "They were. Though I don't think I picked up all those nails I accidentally spilled off the roof, so I would just stay out of that area of your lawn for a while."

They paused near the woods at the edge of the field. "Turn your horse loose when you reach the edge of the forest. She will return to me. Have you ridden before?"

"Do mechanical bulls count?" Quinn glanced at the horse. "Actually, I think those are harder. I'll be fine." She hoisted herself up into the saddle. "And seriously, thanks for everything. I really appreciate it."

"You are welcome." Beorn nodded. "And should you pass this way in the future—"

"I'll be sure to stop by." She grinned. "See you around, Beorn."

"Goodbye, Quinn." He smacked her ass, then turned to leave.

"Pretty sure that's not how you get a horse to go," she called after him as he walked back to the house.

* * *

Traveling alone was weird. Back home, she'd usually have music playing in her car. In this new world, she'd gotten used to the Company's chatter while they walked.

Now, the air around her felt noticeably silent. The air was warm and beams of light fell from between the trees, but it still felt strangely empty.

Though it was nice to have someone else doing the walking for a change. Quinn reached down to pat the neck of her horse, dubbed Epona.

Even on horseback, it took her a few days to reach the edge of the forest. It was more or less a straight shot from the house to Mirkwood, and once inside, the path would hopefully lead her straight through. Catching up to the Company would be simple. Probably.

 _I gotta get through this skeevy forest first._

Though it was only the end of summer, Quinn could see several bare branches on the trees. The slimy trunks seemed to twist and crowd together like some sort of insidious growth that didn't know when to stop.

"Okay." She breathed out a sigh and dismounted. Epona let her remove her pack, then snorted once and trotted off to the west.

Quinn kept her ears and eyes peeled as she approached the edge of the forest. There was a strange structure on the path that vaguely resembled deer's antlers, forming a sort of gate.

"If I was in a horror movie, I'd be turning the fuck around by now," she muttered to herself. "Let's hope the trees don't try to eat me while I sleep. Or I get attacked by the Blair Witch."

There was only the wind in the trees. The canopy grew thicker farther in, and created deep shadows that left everything a few yards beyond the border shrouded in darkness.

Quinn crossed herself, then stepped into the forest.

* * *

"Day Five. I think. It's been creepy, y'all. I hear stuff moving around in the bushes, but it never comes out onto the path. Sometimes I see eyes looking at me from the shadows."

In the darkness of Mirkwood, Quinn's "monologuing to a camera" habit had resurfaced. She didn't actually have a camcorder to document her journey horror movie style, so each night she would pick a random tree and talk to it. That was sign number one that she might have been going slightly crazy.

Quinn sighed and opened her pack. The lighting remained a perpetual dusk, so it was almost impossible to keep track of time. She'd been going off how often she ate and slept, but that might have been off as well. Mirkwood made her slightly drowsy all the time, and she sometimes found herself stress eating.

All in all, it was not a great start to her solo adventure.

She tried singing to distract herself, but her voice always sounded small in the oppressive mugginess of the forest and made her feel even more alone. A couple times she climbed a tree to see if she was close to the other end of the forest, but all she could see in either direction was more trees. And the mysterious sticky substance that stuck to her hands was _not_ worth it.

At times she found herself imagining what the Company was up to, and if they'd made it through yet. Glóin would probably be complaining about how trees sucked or something. Kíli would be trying to shoot the dark-colored squirrels that sometimes scampered overhead. They'd probably be as miserable as she was, but at least they were all together.

A few days after, she came across the stream Beorn had warned her about. It wasn't moving at all, and the water had turned opaque in its stagnance. Even the pond scum on the surface looked more gross and unnatural than usual.

Quinn edged towards the bank and nudged a rock into the stream. It disappeared into the foul-smelling water with barely more than a splash.

"If I fall into this…" She leaned over to look at the water. She couldn't even see her reflection. "I'll either turn into the Hulk, Godzilla, or get stuck and be slowly digested over the next thousand years." She frowned. "Or maybe zombies will come out and eat me."

A few crumbled bricks on either bank suggested a bridge had once been there, but it must have long since eroded. Her next best bet was a group of thick, ropy vines that spanned the gap. Hopefully they would hold her weight.

Quinn put her hand on one and tugged down. It seemed sturdy enough. She placed one foot on another vine and clenched her jaw as she realized how slippery the surface was. One wrong move and she'd be Middle-earth's next radioactive superhero.

Then she looked down at her boots and it hit her. _Beorn, you clever bastard_. She slipped them off and tied the laces together, then hung them around her neck. This time her bare feet were able to get a better grip on the vine, though she winced as they came into contact with something sticky.

 _If I get out of here without athlete's foot, it'll be a miracle_.

Sidling along the vine with her feet and using a higher one as a support for her hands, Quinn was able to make it about halfway across without any problems. It was when she reached the lowest point that the vine beneath her feet began to wobble.

"Fucking stop," she said, clutching the vine in her hands harder. She tried to stabilize her foothold, but that only made it swing more violently. "This is why I didn't do gymnastics."

She realized she wouldn't be able to stay standing for much longer and put all her weight on the vine in her hands. Before she could even breathe a sigh of relief, an ominous _snap_ came from above, and the vine began to fall.

"Shit shitshit _shit_!" Quinn held on for dear life as the vine, having broken on one end, began to swing towards the opposite bank. The edge rushed up and slammed into her gut, folding her body into an L-shape. One of the boots hanging from her neck smacked her in the jaw.

The rest of the vine slapped against the water, then everything fell silent. She lay there for a minute, breathing hard. _I made it_.

A slow, slightly crazy grin spread on her face, and she stood up. "I'm goddamn Nathan Drake, y'all!"

Whatever forest animals were listening didn't really seem to care.

* * *

When her food finally ran out, Quinn did her best not to panic. She climbed another tree to check her progress, but once again it was trees, trees, and more trees in all directions. Beorn hadn't specified how long it would take to get through the forest, and she was starting to get worried—clearly her supplies hadn't lasted the full way through.

Grumbling to herself, she began climbing down. Her socks were probably permanently stuck to her feet, since she hadn't been able to wash the Mirkwood goo off her soles before putting them back on. _This forest has turned me into a sock-wearing mutant_.

All that was left for her to do was continue on. Quinn hit the ground and hardened her resolve. She was no quitter.

She looked around.

"What the fuck?"

By some magical forest bullshit, the path, which had been right next to the tree she'd just climbed, had disappeared.

 **In my other hobbit fic, I put in a lot of book elements into the Mirkwood sequence, but I've already had trouble keeping the canon parts of those two different, so I decided to just go the movie route with this one. Hope it was still enjoyable!**

 **I didn't expect Beorn and Quinn's relationship to go this way when I first outlined this story. The one night stand was just for kicks, but then these two had to go and actually be compatible.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review since it helps me out a lot! And thanks a lot to drwatsonn, TheDarkLordofDoom, and Guest186 for the reviews! It means the world to me!**


	12. Low Health

**Chapter 12: Low Health**

The ground was covered in rotting leaves, thorny bushes, and patches of mud...but was absolutely lacking a path of any kind.

Quinn squatted and pressed her fingers to her temples. She'd circled the tree a dozen times (and thank god _that_ hadn't disappeared too) but hadn't found so much as an animal track. It was as though she'd landed in the middle of the forest.

She couldn't help but think of the Lost Woods in another one of her favorite Zelda games. People who lost their way would wander around in circles until they were nothing more than skeletons.

 _I am going to be one hungry skeleton_. She let out a shaky sigh and stood up. Things had gone from bad to worse, but she had just told herself that she wasn't a quitter. Sitting around and being afraid wasn't going to do shit.

So she started wandering, with no direction and no way to tell time. The only indication that time was passing at all was the growing black hole where her stomach was supposed to be. Even ancient warriors, it seemed, got hungry.

"French toast. Cheetos. Soft serve ice cream. Baked potatoes. Fruit snacks. Pizza." Quinn counted each item on her fingers. She'd find a way to get her hands on those, or whatever the Middle-earth equivalent was, and eat it all as soon as she got out of this fucking forest.

After a few more walk-sleep cycles, she realized fantasizing about different Slurpee flavors was just making her more hungry. It was hard to think about anything else, though. When her stomach wasn't making paper-shredder noises, it was rolling around like a dryer machine on high. Like she'd have anything to throw up.

This annoying clicking noise had started, too, though she couldn't recall when. Quinn didn't remember ever learning about that as a symptom of starvation. It took her a while to realize the noise wasn't coming from her head, but rather from above. She turned towards the source.

Eight eyes blinked down at her, then lunged.

"Motherfucker!" Quinn barely managed to dodge in time. She threw herself onto her stomach, skidding across the slick layer of leaves. The huge, eight-legged monstrosity landed just behind her and turned around with skittering motions that set her skin crawling.

It took more effort than it should have for her to push herself back up. Clumsily, she drew her sword as the giant spider hissed at her.

"Let's see how you like sword lasers," she said, and swung her blade at the monster.

Nothing happened.

Quinn spat out a curse and glanced upwards. The canopy was too thick to allow any beams of light through, and without it, her sword was useless. Or as useless as a sharp metal thing could be.

The spider clicked its pincers and charged. Quinn backed away rapidly, stumbling over rocks and branches in her haste. _Aim for..._ her scrambled mind struggled to remember. _Aim for the underbelly_.

Just before it reached her, the spider reared up on its hind legs. The movement revealed a patch of flesh between two plates of its hardened carapace.

 _Well, that's convenient_. Quinn stepped forward, taking advantage of the opening, and plunged her sword into the spider's weak spot. At the same time, something pierced her leg just below the knee, and she hissed in pain.

She jerked her sword out, bringing a string of sticky, orange blood with it. With a strained clicking noise, the spider twitched and died.

Right on top of her.

Quinn was too dizzy to move out of the way in time. She fell to the ground and grunted as the spider's weight came down in full force. Her vision blurred. She blinked rapidly as the dim leaves overhead became blotches of muted color.

 _What in the...the…_ Even her thoughts were coming as a jumbled mess. The weight of the spider on her chest seemed to be pressing more and more air from her lungs.

In sophomore year of high school, she'd had to read _The Crucible_ for her English class. All she could think of in that moment was the scene where they'd crushed one of the dudes under a bunch of stone.

 _If the last thing I think of before I die is a fucking play from English class, I'm gonna..._

* * *

Quinn dreamed she was in a hibachi restaurant. Beorn was the hibachi chef (and was only wearing an apron and a chef's hat, not that that had anything to do with anything). He was trying in vain to cook a bunch of bees, which kept flying away from his spatulas.

She took a bite of her food and winced as it crunched against her teeth. Half of a spider was pinched between her chopsticks. The other half had probably just chipped some of her teeth.

"That's what happens when you chew on an Everlasting Gobstopper," said Willy Wonka, except he was played by James Franco instead of Johnny Depp.

Quinn woke with a scream, but no noise came out since her lungs were still being compressed by the giant spider on top of her. She groaned as a shooting pain pierced her temples. Her head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. Quickly, she checked to make sure her teeth were all intact.

She managed to maneuver her arms so they were bent and tried to push the spider off. Her muscles screamed with the effort, and after a while, she had to let the carcass drop back on top of her.

Her stomach growled again.

 _So much for ancient warrior strength_. Quinn groaned again. She was stuck in a screwed up fantasy version of _127 Hours_ , but she had no idea which limb she was supposed to cut off to get out of this one.

"What would Beorn do?" she asked herself, though her voice came out as nothing more than a rasp. _W...W...Y...B...what fucking acronym is that?_

 _Not helping. How do I get out of this?_

 _If the forest gets flooded, the spider will float on the surface of the water and lift up on its own._

 _What...the fuck?_

It was like trying to do math homework. Quinn couldn't get her brain to focus and do something productive. The only clarity she could achieve was the near-all-consuming urge to find something to eat.

And she couldn't do that while she was trapped under a spider.

She squirmed and wriggled, chafing against the slimy leaves on the ground. It wasn't without a good amount of bruises and scrapes, but eventually she began to make some progress. After another dizzy handful of minutes, she'd finally worked herself free of the spider.

Quinn staggered to her feet and swayed a little. She looked down at her leg and found a tear in her pants. Underneath was a swollen red spot, the center of which was oozing...something.

She swallowed hard as nausea swelled up again. The spider must have stung her before it went down. It didn't hurt much to put her weight on that leg, so she took a hearty swig of water and continued on.

Her legs could barely carry her more than a few yards. Quinn collapsed against a tree and drank the rest of the water, desperate for something to fill her stomach. Her whole body felt leaden and weak.

Her money was on dying within the next few days. Which sucked, because she'd gone out here to help the dwarves. They wouldn't even know what had happened to her. Neither would Beorn.

The hand holding the waterskin flopped to the side and struck something spongy. Quinn turned her gaze to the side and her eyes widened.

Mushrooms. Those were technically food, right?

She picked one up and examined it. The shiny green cap was a little slimy and the whole surface was a bit damp. But mushrooms were technically a vegetable...or something. If she was going to eat, she might as well eat healthy.

Quinn held the mushroom up and took a big bite.

* * *

Someone had turned on the lights. Mirkwood was flooded with it, like there had been lamps in the trees and someone had just flicked the switch. There were also strobe lights, and laser beams, and why was she in a rave?

There was pounding music coming from somewhere. Quinn wanted to turn her head to look around, but she didn't know how.

At least she didn't feel hungry anymore. That mushroom had really filled her up.

"And it didn't break your teeth this time," said another mushroom. This one was also played by James Franco.

"Why is everything vibrating?" Quinn asked James Francshroom. "And who turned on the lights? Also, what if someone floods the forest? Also, what did you do with Johnny Depp?"

The vibrating was making her really itchy. She tried to scratch at her jaw, but her hands kept missing.

"Ecogel eke iffat lo huelo cig autopsia. Dasi rom cexa. Hiseg egidio samoyed ler luta geedaha."

"You're so right." Quinn nodded, and the whole world spun out of control. " _Woah_."

When she came back, the trees were moving. She wondered where they were trying to go.

"Did you find the rest of the pack?" shouted one of the trees.

"Just the one. It looked as though it had already been killed," another tree screamed back.

"By one of the dwarves?"

"It is possible."

"Good lord, you don't have to speak so loud," Quinn said.

The trees melted and splashed against the ground. A red-orange shape appeared in their place. When it moved, it left a trail of red and orange behind it. As it came closer, terror shot through her chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, okay." She tried to back away, but her hands kept sinking into the ground and wouldn't move her anywhere. "Oh, there's my hands."

The blob gained features as it got closer, but it was still too much of a Snapchat filter for her to actually see anything.

A sigh wooshed through the clearing. "What possessed you to eat the mushrooms of Mirkwood?"

Finally, the thing came into focus, and Quinn could have cried with relief. "Kate from Lost." Her chest shook with sobs. "And you're not being played by James Franco."

Not-James-Franco sighed again and turned to talk to another blob. "This one needs a healer. Help me."

Something was lifting her arms on either side. Quinn groaned as her shoulders protested. "Careful, careful. Please keep my arms on."

"Bye bye," said the James Franco mushroom, and then she was falling up into the sky.

* * *

Someone was holding her hair back with one hand and supporting her chest with the other. Quinn retched again, and watched with a grimace as the last of the mushroom fell into the bucket on the floor.

"Are you finished?"

"Ugh." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat up. "I have the worst headache right now. Maddy, did you—" She looked up and froze. "You're not Maddy."

The person supporting her was an elf. Her long red hair was pinned back from her face, and her elegant features were slightly pinched with concern. "Who is Maddy?"

"A friend from, uh, from home. Usually the one holding my hair back when I'm puking my guts out." And boy, did she wish she had just come back from a wild night out instead of almost dying in a cursed forest.

Quinn wiped her mouth again and swallowed to try and get rid of the awful taste in her mouth.

The elf pushed a cup into her hand. "Drink."

The water was cool against her sore throat. She drained the cup, swishing it a couple times to try and clear out her mouth. "Thanks."

Now that the room had stopped spinning, she was able to get a better look at her surroundings. She was sitting on a cot in what must have been the elves' version of an infirmary—there were several other cots around the room and some cabinets of what must have been medical supplies. Unlike Rivendell, the walls here were made of stone and unadorned, as though they'd decided to set up shop in a cave. A couple of the same strange lamps from the last elven city illuminated the room.

"Do you guys have electricity here?" Quinn asked, tilting her head back to look at them. "Or am I still tripping?"

"Most of the toxins have left your body," the elf said. "You should rest. When we found you in the forest you were half-starved and delirious."

"I remember some of that." Her body felt sluggish and weak, so she lay back down. "Speaking of half-starved, do you guys have cheeseburgers here?"

She frowned. "I'm...not sure what you're referring to."

"That's fine. I'll eat pretty much anything at this point."

The elf cocked a brow and glanced down at the bucket. "That much was clear. I'll send for someone to bring you something to eat."

Quinn let out a sigh of relief. "You're the best, uh…"

"Tauriel."

"Hi. I'm Quinn." She glanced down at herself. Someone had taken off her armor, but she was still wearing the clothing underneath, including her disgusting socks. A bandage was wrapped around her leg, where she'd been stung by the spider. "Where am I?"

"You are in the halls of the Elvenking of the Greenwood." Tauriel assumed a more formal posture as she said this.

Beorn had said something about elves before he'd sent her off—not to provoke them. She eyed Tauriel a little more warily. "Well, thanks for saving me."

She received a nod in return. "No thanks is necessary. It is my duty to keep the Greenwood safe."

"I thought this place was called Mirkwood."

Tauriel's expression darkened. "Some have given it that name. Spiders and other foul creatures have crept forth and spread darkness among these lands. It is through great effort that we have kept them at bay."

Quinn nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, those fuckers are hard to kill."

A smile twitched on her lips. "You've been the topic of several discussions since your arrival here. Rumor has it your sword has special properties. And I have never seen armor such as yours before. Which king do you serve?"

"Uh." She blinked. "Yeah. My sword can shoot lase—beams of light. And I'm not really serving a king at the moment. I'm more of a freelancer, really."

"Free-lancer?" Tauriel sounded out the word. "You are not a knight, then? Are you a mercenary?"

"No. Maybe? I don't know." Quinn held up her hands. "I wasn't expecting some kind of Spanish Inquisition." She looked around. Nothing happened.

"My apologies." She pressed her lips together and straightened again. "But my king will want to know who you are and why you have crossed our borders."

"You don't want people crossing your borders, you should guard them more carefully," she replied. Hunger was making her irritable. "Build a wall or something. That'll keep the spiders out."

Tauriel frowned and said nothing for a moment. "When you are recovered, my lord Thranduil will speak to you in person. I will ensure that you are fed." With that, she turned and left the room.

Quinn sighed and pressed her palms over her face. _Did I really just tell an elf to build a wall as a means of border control?_

She managed to doze off until her stomach caused enough of a mini San Andreas to wake her again. The room was empty, but someone had left a plate of food on the bedside table.

"Oh, thank god." Quinn nearly upended the dish in her haste to grab it. The elves had left her some bread, cheese, and cubes of some sort of melon. They could have given her Sonic's Pickle Juice Slush and she still would have scarfed it down. Her stomach felt like someone had turned it inside out.

The click of the door opening made her pause after only a few mouthfuls. She watched with wide eyes as the door swung open of its own volition, then closed again. Swallowing with a wince, she sat up straighter. "Hello?"

In the middle of the room, Bilbo just _appeared_ and began walking towards her.

Quinn screamed and held up her fork and knife to form a cross. "What the fuck? I knew I was still hallucinating!"

Bilbo gave her the most violent " _Shh_ ," she'd ever heard and crept over to her bed. "Keep your voice down! I'd really like not to get caught here."

She lowered her utensils but didn't relax entirely. "You can turn invisible? How? Where are the dwarves? What are you doing here?"

"Lower. Your. Voice," Bilbo said, doing a perfect impression of an exasperated fourth grade teacher. "And I could ask you the very same thing."

"I can't turn invisible," she replied, dialing her voice down to a whisper. "And I don't know where the dwarves are. Oh. You're asking what I'm doing here."

He sighed and nodded, looking very tired.

"Sorry. I'm really hungry." Quinn shoved a piece of melon into her mouth. "Basically, I decided to follow you guys into Mirkwood 'cause I wanted to help, but I kind of got fucked up on the way so the elves had to take me back here."

Bilbo glanced at the bandage on her leg, as though noticing it for the first time, and frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Hungry." She swallowed and grabbed a piece of cheese. "What about you?"

"The dwarves were captured by the elves a week ago. I managed to avoid getting taken, and I've been hiding ever since, trying to find a way to get the dwarves out of the dungeons."

Quinn nodded slowly. Things were starting to come together, and her head was getting less fuzzy. Dwarves and elves didn't like each other, so that explained that. "So you can turn invisible? Is that a hobbit ability?"

"No." Bilbo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I just—well, I found something. A ring. When I put it on it makes me invisible."

"Neat," she said, then tilted her head. A ring?

"What is it?"

"Something about that seems...important, but I don't know why." She shrugged it off. "You hungry?"

"I'm fine."

"This is the third time you've glanced at my food." Quinn moved the plate so it was between them. "Have some."

Bilbo shook his head. "Really, I-I'm—"

"You gotta eat something. I'm, uh, allergic to bread, and I don't want it to go to waste."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I got celiac or something. C'mon, I don't mind sharing. They'll probably bring me more food later."

"All right. If you insist." Bilbo climbed up onto the bed and they spend the next few minutes eating in silence.

"So, do you have a plan yet? For breaking the dwarves out?" Quinn asked once the plate had been entirely cleared.

"Well, I know where the keys to the cells are. I just need to find a way to get them out without the guards knowing...and a way to get out of the place itself."

She thought back to all the prison breakouts she'd seen in movies. "I think you should start a prison riot. Open all the cells at once, then smuggle the dwarves out during the confusion."

"Quinn, the only prisoners there are the dwarves."

"Oh. That sucks." She straightened. "But don't worry. I've played A Way Out. I'll think of something."

* * *

"Okay, here's what we got so far." Quinn listed the ideas on her fingers. "Find a trash chute and escape through the basement. Build paragliders and get the dwarves to the roof so they can escape through the air. Find a garbage or laundry truck and smuggle them inside. Build a catapult and get the dwarves to the roof so they can escape through the air. Pay off the guards. Find salsa and use it to wear down the bars so—"

"I don't think any of those are going to work." Bilbo rubbed his face with his hands.

"At least try to find an escape route. Top floor or bottom floor's gotta have something. And, if you have time, try and find some salsa because I am _really_ craving Mexican right now."

He nodded. "I'll keep looking. I don't know if I'll have any luck finding this salsa, though."

"That's fine." She noticed how tired he was, with his drooping shoulders, and reached over to pat his back. "Don't worry. You got this, Lil B."

"I certainly hope so." Bilbo turned to her. "What did you just call me?"

"Lil B. That's your nickname." She frowned. "Wait, is it racist to say you're little?"

"Is it what?" He shook his head. "Never mind. I should probably get going, anyway." He slid off the bed and turned to her. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"When… _If_ I free the dwarves, what will you do? I suppose you'd like to come along, but I doubt Thorin will allow that."

"Right." Quinn drummed her fingers on her knee. "I mean, at least I'm not stuck in some prison cell, so I'm mostly free to do what I want. You just tell me when you're gonna bust the dwarves out, and I'll try and cover for you. It's the least I can do." What she would do after that was up in the air, but she had come to help the dwarves, and this was the way to do it.

"Thank you. I'll let you know once I've come up with a plan." Bilbo turned to go.

"And if you ever want any more snacks, you know where to find me," she called after him.

He gave her a brief smile, and in the next moment he disappeared.

"That is so cool." She settled back onto the bed. "I should get myself a magic ring."

* * *

Quinn was content to spend the next few days resting, eating, and regaining her strength. After spending so long in that nightmare of a forest, it was nice to be able to relax without having to worry about giant spiders or slimy creeks.

The elves who took care of her were polite, if a bit more taciturn than the ones in Rivendell. Though she supposed that was reasonable considering they lived in a stone fortress in the middle of a creepy forest.

The next time she saw Tauriel was three days after her arrival. The elf entered the room, her back ramrod straight as usual.

Quinn looked down at her. She was standing on the bed, and had been trying to get a better look at the lamps hanging from the ceiling. If these elves actually did have electricity, that was going to open up a whole new realm of possibilities.

"I trust you have regained your strength?" Tauriel asked, one brow rising as she took in her position.

"Oh, yeah." Quinn leapt down off the bed, and was satisfied when she stuck the landing. "I feel great. Was getting kind of bored, actually."

Another brow joined the first, giving her a slightly amused expression. "I suppose that is why you were inspecting the ceiling so thoroughly?"

"I just wanna know how your lamps work."

Her lips twitched, and she gestured for Quinn to follow as she left the room. "The magic of our realm gives light to our halls."

"It's just magic? Oh." _Boring_.

As they walked through the corridor, she realized the rest of the elf kingdom was anything but. It was like Rivendell in a way, with its open spaces, leafy groves, and flowing waterfalls. However, most of it was underground. Winding pathways ran from platform to courtyard to hallway like branches of a large, stone tree. Quinn had to watch her step more than once as she gawked at her surroundings.

Tauriel smiled. "Impressive, is it not?"

"Yeah." Her head swiveled from side to side as they crossed a bridge with intricate tree carvings on either side. "This is some great design. Uh, where are we going, by the way?"

"I am bringing you to King Thranduil. He has asked to speak with you once you recovered."

"Oh." Quinn was torn between flattered and wary. "Did he say why?"

Tauriel shook her head, making her long red tresses sway. It was long enough that Quinn wondered if she ever sat on it by accident. "He did seem quite interested in your sword."

"Well, it is a cool sword. Not for sale, though."

They reached a winding pathway that cut through a large, open area. At the end of it, Quinn could see a pair of what looked like giant moose antlers. With nerves fluttering in her stomach, she followed Tauriel down the path.

The antlers turned out to be part of a throne on a raised dais. An elf with freakily neat, long blond hair was seated on it, and the crown keeping said hair in place was evidence enough as to who the he was. As Quinn drew closer, she realized her sword was resting across his knees.

Once they passed the two guards at the entrance and reached the platform below the throne, Tauriel bowed, and Quinn awkwardly copied her movement. "My lord, I have brought the warrior you wished to speak with."

"You may leave us." Thranduil didn't even look up, his gaze focused on the blade in his lap.

Tauriel straightened and left. With slow steps, Quinn went to stand in the middle of the platform. She clasped her hands behind her back, unsure what else to do with them.

Thranduil finally looked up, and his eyes sharpened with recognition. "I thought it might be you, when I recognized your blade."

She blinked. _Uh oh_.

"Welcome, Belekur, to the halls of the Greenwood."

 **Believe it or not, this is my first time writing Tauriel's character (my crackfics don't count) so any criticism on that end would be much appreciated!**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn for reviewing! And please feel free to review for this chapter as well; it means a lot to me.**


	13. A Way Out

**Chapter 13: A Way Out**

 _Okay. Okay._ Quinn's heart was pounding despite her best efforts to stay calm. She had to think through this carefully.

Thranduil recognized her, just as Elrond and Gandalf had. Her first instinct had been to correct him, but a thought had stopped her. Ancient warriors seemed to get a lot of respect from the people who knew them. If she played her cards right, she'd possibly be able to convince him to free the dwarves.

"It has been a long time, King Thranduil," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Indeed, it has. And how have you fared in your world all these years?"

 _Shit, is he trying to quiz me?_ Quinn swallowed back her paranoia. He was asking because he didn't know. All she had to do was give a believable enough answer. "The years have passed quickly. I have been training, as I have always done."

"And yet…" Thranduil tilted his head. "My Captain of the Guard found you ill and delirious not two leagues from my halls. Your survival skills seem to be lacking of late."

 _You can say that again_. She scrambled for a response to his statement. "The passage between worlds is never an easy one." Elrond and Gandalf had bought that one easily enough. "It was unfortunate that I arrived in the middle of the forest. Your Captain told me that area has grown dangerous lately."

"Indeed." Thranduil's eyes narrowed slightly. "Though we have kept the evil at bay. Tell me, what is your purpose this time?"

Quinn blinked dumbly. "My purpose?"

"Why have the Valar sent you to Middle-earth? There is no war to fight, no battles to be won. What purpose do you serve here?"

This was a perfect time to slip in her request about the dwarves. _Play it cool, Quinn._ "I believe my purpose is to aid the dwarves that were passing through the forest. Their quest is to defeat the dragon and reclaim the mountain. These same dwarves, I believe, are imprisoned within your dungeons."

Thranduil's eyes flashed, and she began to worry she'd overstepped. "You believe your quest," he repeated slowly, "is to help the dwarves reclaim Erebor."

She sucked in a low breath and straightened up. _Own it, Quinn! You're a bad bitch who doesn't take no for an answer, even from L'oreal Model Elf Kings._ "Yes. That is my quest."

He propped one elbow against the armrest of his throne in a casual yet graceful movement. She could totally picture a Starbucks Iced Latte held in one hand. "A fitting partnership, I suppose. A group of dishonorable dwarves and an equally dishonorable warrior."

Quinn nodded. "I'm glad you agree." She froze. "Wait, what?"

"Don't tell me the past age has dulled your memory as well as your skill." Thranduil's gaze was as icy as the imaginary latte. "Or have you forgotten what occurred during the War of the Last Alliance?"

 _Fuck. Fuck. Restart. How do I restart this conversation?_

"I'll speak no more with you," Thranduil said. "If you are so determined to join Thorin Oakenshield's Company, then you can rot with them in the dungeons." He gestured with two fingers, and the two guards came from behind and took her by the arms.

"Wait a second," Quinn said. If she told the truth about who she was, would Thranduil drop the charges or get even more mad at her for lying? Would he even believe her? "I think there's been a mistake."

He only stared at her coldly as the guards practically dragged her off the dais and onto the walkway. Quinn clenched her teeth and struggled to stay upright. How had that gone to hell so fast?

"Okay, okay," she said as she nearly tripped for the third time. "Can I please turn around? This whole walking backwards thing is not working for me."

The elves let go, and one of them spun her around and cuffed her hands behind her back in the same motion.

"Woah!" Quinn blinked. "Practice that much?" The elves said nothing as they continued to escort her down one of the halls.

She figured they were leading her to the dungeons where the dwarves were, which was the exact opposite of where she wanted to go. If she hadn't tried that undercover bullshit, she'd be able to help them escape instead of being stuck in the next cell. Bilbo was probably invisibly facepalming somewhere.

The dungeons were far from the dingy, cramped space she'd expected. A stream ran through the narrow, winding room. On either side were multiple levels with cells and stairs randomly scattered about. It looked more like a paintball arena than a dungeon.

Dori was the first to see her. "Quinn?" There was a commotion as the other dwarves gathered to the cell doors.

"What? You guys are here too? That's crazy!" Quinn feigned a surprised grin as the guards led her to an empty cell.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Glóin asked.

"Brought in for drug possession. _Totally_ unfair conviction." One of the elves opened the door, uncuffed her, and shoved her inside. She took in the bare room. There was barely enough floor space for her to lie down comfortably. "Wait, no toilet? What the hell?"

The lock clicked behind her.

The dwarves hissed and cursed in their native language as the elves left the dungeons. As soon as they were gone, they immediately began talking over each other, asking her what she was doing there and was she okay and did she punch any elves.

"Hold on, so these are the dungeons?" Quinn asked, leaning her forearms on the criss-crossing bars of the door. From her position, she could see Nori and Ori's cell, and some of Bifur's calves if she leaned all the way to the left. "With no toilets? Do we even get showers? Parole? Recreational time?"

"I'm afraid they'll not let us out until we promise 'em a share of the treasure from Erebor," Bofur said.

"This prison _sucks_."

"Well, what else do you expect from a bunch of fucking barbarian elves?" Dwalin growled.

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Wow, tell us how you really feel. So do they even—"

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" That was Thorin's voice. He did not sound happy.

"Long story. Short version is: I was at Beorn's, and I decided I wanted to go after you guys and try to help with your quest. Beorn actually encouraged me to go through with it, so technically everything that happened after is _his_ fault. Anyway, I went into Mirkwood, ran out of food, had the worst trip of my life, and woke up here. Then they brought me to see Thranduil, and he got pissed off at me for no reason, so—"

"You spoke with the elvenking?" Balin asked.

"Yeah. Oh, and he seemed to recognize me as Belekur, so I was trying to go with it to get on his good side, but it turns out he hates Belekur, so here I am."

"You should not have come," Thorin said.

"Yeah, kind of getting that sense, now." Quinn sighed. "Don't worry, guys. Just play it cool for now and we might get out early on good behavior."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Quinn paused in the middle of her sit-up as Tauriel appeared in front of her cell door, then continued. "Uh, seven hundred forty eight...seven hundred forty nine...seven fifty." She stood up and stretched. "Just trying to keep in shape. The guards said no to the basketball court."

Tauriel didn't seem to think that was funny. "Why did you lie to me about who you were?"

"Lie? You got it backwards. I told _you_ the truth, but I lied to Thranduil about who I was."

She frowned. "Why?"

Quinn stepped closer to the door. "I...ugh, all right. The truth is, my real name is Quinn, I'm not from this world, when I died I ended up in the body of someone named Belekur, and I've been kind of on-and-off masquerading as an ancient warrior."

Tauriel stared at her. "You...what?"

"I'm not Belekur." She gestured to herself. "I just ended up with this body. I know that sounds absolutely fucking crazy, but it's the truth."

She pursed her lips, considering her. "Well, you certainly don't act as one would expect of an ancient warrior."

"Thank you." Quinn nodded. "Not sure if that was an insult or what. Anyway, when Thranduil recognized me, I tried to play along so I could convince him to let the dwarves go. But it turns out he's pissed at me for something that happened during some war."

"The War of the Last Alliance." Tauriel lowered her gaze. "I've heard stories of what occurred then."

She spread her hands. "So, what occurred? Why does Thranduil hate me?"

"Truly, you do not remember?"

"There is nothing to remember! I know absolutely jack shit about Belekur. I swear I don't know what happened."

Tauriel sighed. "All right. The War of the Last Alliance was fought against the Free Peoples of Middle-earth and the Dark Lord Sauron. Belekur was sent to help the former, and was tasked with aiding King Oropher's company as they marched on Dagorlad. However, another battle was occurring elsewhere, and Belekur left to aid the men fighting there. The king, as well as many of his company, were slaughtered in the meantime." Her gaze darted to the side. "My lord Thranduil believes the presence of an ancient warrior would have turned the tide of the battle and saved the king's life."

"Okay." Quinn nodded slowly, taking in everything she'd heard. "Makes sense. But who's Oropher?"

"That would be my lord Thranduil's father."

"Oh...shit." She cringed. "Yeah, I see why he's mad now."

"Even if you were to tell him the truth, I do not know if he could see past his grievance and free you. But I will speak with him about what you have told me."

"You'd do that for me?" Quinn blinked. "Why?"

"Because I believe you." A small smile lit up her face. "I do not always understand what you have to say, but I believe you are an honest person."

"I appreciate it." She returned the smile. Maybe elves weren't so bad after all. She stuck her fist through the bars of the cell door. "You're cool, Tauriel."

The elf glanced back and forth between her hand and her face.

"Just bump your fist against mine. There ya go." Quinn laughed and withdrew her hand. "I'll see you around."

Grinning, Tauriel nodded and turned to go.

As her footsteps receded from the dungeons, Nori's voice broke the silence. "Fraternizing with elves, now?"

"You guys heard all that?"

"Quinn, you are _so_ loud."

"Well, do you guys want to get out of here or not?" She leaned against the cell door. "If I can clear my name, I get out of here, which means I have a better chance of breaking you guys out too."

"Was that your thinking when you were talking with her, Kíli?" Fíli asked.

"It was one conversation!"

"Definitely more than that," Bombur muttered from the next cell over.

"Hey, me and Kíli are breaking down racial barriers here," Quinn said. "And trying to escape at the same time. We're multitaskers."

"What good is that?" Dwalin scoffed. "Those elvish bastards are never going to let us out of here."

The dungeons fell silent at that. Quinn sighed and retreated into her cell. She hoped Tauriel would manage to put in a good word for her.

It was that, or start coming up with more escape plans.

* * *

"Let's see…" Nori drummed his fingers on the cell door. "I once killed an orc with a porcupine, I've slept with one of Bofur's cousins, and I stole two thousand coin from a nobleman in Gondor."

"Porcupine's a lie," Quinn said. "Those things are too cute to be deadly."

"The coin," Kíli said, followed by his brother's agreement. "There's no way you could have stolen that much."

"Cousin," said Bofur and Bombur in unison, with Bifur's added, " _Iraknadad_."

"I'm not guessing this round," Dori said.

"Well, Kíli was right," Nori said. The two brothers shouted in triumph. "I did rob a nobleman once, but I stole a...different amount. Stop glaring at me, Dori! It's only a game!"

Quinn smiled and propped her feet up against the cell wall. She'd tried to keep the dwarves entertained with stories from her world and games like Two Truths and A Lie. It had worked so far, but she didn't know how long it would last.

Weeks had passed, and there had been no word from Tauriel or Bilbo. What had happened to either of them, she couldn't guess, but those two were their only hope at getting out. Games would only serve as a distraction for so long.

One thing she didn't think the dwarves would tire of, though, was their favorite activity: singing We Will Rock You at the top of their lungs every time an elf entered the dungeon. Quinn had been hesitant to teach them that one, but it had proved to be pretty funny. Who knew thirteen dwarves could be as loud as an entire football stadium?

The dungeons lapsed into silence, and the faint sound of music drifted down from above. The elves were having a party of some sort, and had been for most of the night. Quinn was struggling to imagine them having any kind of fun beyond playing scrabble or watching vines grow. But she figured with their elvish dexterity, they'd probably be wizards at beer pong.

"Hey," she said as a thought struck her. "Where's Gandalf? Couldn't he help us get out?"

"The wizard left us at the border of the forest," Nori replied. "Said he had somewhere else to be."

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" The despondence in Ori's voice reflected what each of them was feeling at the moment.

"Not stuck in here, you're not."

At Bilbo's voice, everyone stood and rushed to the cell doors.

"You made it, man!" Quinn grinned. "You find a way out yet?"

"I did." There was the jangle of metal. "And I have the keys with me."

The dwarves burst into cheers at this, but Bilbo shushed them a moment later. "Can you lot please have an _ounce_ of subtlety? There are guards nearby!"

Everyone quieted down at this, though excitement hummed in the air. After weeks of imprisonment, they were finally getting things going again.

Bilbo hurried from door to door, unlocking them with nervous movements. The dwarves started up the stairs.

"No, no, we have to go down," Bilbo said, gesturing in the other direction. "That way."

"Basement escape, huh?" Quinn pushed her door open once it was unlocked.

He smiled. "Turns out you actually did say something useful."

"'Course I did." She started up the stairs. "You all go on ahead."

Bilbo frowned, and some of the dwarves paused and looked back at her. "You're not coming with us?"

Quinn jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I gotta get my sword. I'm not leaving without it."

"Go to the top of the stairs, make a right, and go to the second room on the left. That's where they're keeping all the weapons."

"Thanks. I'll try to catch up with you guys, but don't wait up. And if I see any guards, I'll, uh, run interference."

Thorin caught her eye and gave her a single nod. She almost saluted him in return.

"Good luck," Kíli said.

"Same to you," she replied, then turned and ran up the stairs.

* * *

Bilbo had been right—Quinn hadn't needed to go far before encountering a couple of guards. They were standing at the upper entrance to the dungeons, looking pretty bored. She would be too, if she had to stand around while her coworkers were getting drunk upstairs.

Bored or not, two guards in a narrow space was a tricky situation. Quinn had no cover, no weapons, and no way to separate them.

But she couldn't wait around for a brilliant idea to come to mind. The Company was already escaping, and despite what she'd said earlier, she _really_ wanted to go with them.

 _Fuck it._ She ducked into a half crouch and crept towards the pair.

Either elves had really great hearing or her stealth was not that great, because she was still a few feet away when one of them turned around.

"What?" He put a hand on his sword as the other guard turned around.

With a stream of curses going through her head, Quinn held her hands up in surrender and straightened. "Hi."

"How did you escape?"

"Uh…" She glanced back and forth between the two of them, her mind going blank.

Seeing she was unarmed, one of the guards grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. "Back to your cell."

Quinn started to shake as the guards hurried her back down into the dungeons. Once they realized the dwarves were missing, it was possible they'd capture them before they even managed to escape. They would never get another chance to get out, and it would be all her fault.

"The dwarves must have escaped as well," one of the elves said as they entered the dungeons. He turned to his companion. "Alert the captain."

With a short nod, he turned and headed back up the stairs.

 _Do something_. Her eyes darted around the winding structure of the dungeons. It was the perfect place for surprising someone.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Quinn dropped to the ground and rolled off the stairs to the landing below. The guard shouted in surprise and made to chase after her, but she was already running down the length of the winding room.

She darted around a corner, threw open the door to one of the cells, and ducked inside. Just as the guard reached her cell, she threw all of her weight against the door, slamming it against him. With a yell, he stumbled back and fell into the stream in the middle of the room.

"Sorry!" she called down to him, then turned and made her way back up, taking the stairs two at a time.

This time, she was more cautious as she reached the hallway where she'd been caught. Following Bilbo's directions, she made her way to the door he'd mentioned. Thankfully, she encountered no one—apparently the majority of the elves were still at the party upstairs.

Pushing the door open, she found a small armory. Swords were lined up against one wall, bows against another. The Company's weapons were piled on a table off to the side. She hurried over to it and began sifting through the stack. They'd even kept Ori's slingshot.

Quinn found her sword and armor quickly enough, and put them on with unsteady hands. She glanced towards the rest of the weapons and hesitated, but carrying all of them would only slow her down, and she needed speed on her side if she was going to catch up with the Company.

With her blade and armor returned, she felt a little less vulnerable, and set off at a quicker pace down the hall. She made her way back to the dungeons, but multiple voices were already coming from that direction. She backpedaled and ducked behind a corner as they drew nearer.

"...could they have gone?" asked the elf that had gone to alert the captain, whoever that was.

"They must have used the river to escape," Tauriel replied. "Arminas, Idril, scout out the front gate. The other prisoner might have chosen another method of escape. The rest of you, with me."

 _The other prisoner? Hey, that's me._

Quinn held her breath as a group of at least a dozen elves marched out of the dungeons, a familiar head of red hair in the lead. If Tauriel was the one giving out orders, that meant _she_ was the captain.

Deciding to ignore that sexy James Bond plot twist for now, Quinn leapt into action and began following the group from a distance. If they were going to try and recapture the prisoners, then they would lead her straight to them.

And from there...she'd figure it out.

The group of elves sprinted down the halls, with Quinn waiting until they'd turned the corner to follow them. Ahead, a single horn blast sounded, and she muttered a curse under her breath. They must have found the dwarves.

The elves disappeared through a light-filled doorway. Quinn followed them through and blinked rapidly at the brightness, taking a deep breath of fresh air for the first time since she'd entered Mirkwood.

Once her eyes adjusted, she took a look at her surroundings. The doorway led to a small patio outside the fortress. To the left was a river that flowed beneath the rock. Up ahead, the elves had already disappeared into the trees, so she made to follow them once more.

Shouts and the clash of weapons sounded up ahead. Quinn cursed again and sped up her pace. She nearly stumbled on a couple roots as she scrambled up a small ridge and was finally able to get a look at whatever was making so much noise.

"What the hell?"

The scene was complete chaos. The elves were busy fending off the orcs that were pouring into the clearing beside the river. Just beyond the fight was a small bridge built over the water with a sluice gate beneath. And trapped behind the gate…

"Barrels?" _I guess Bilbo didn't have a lot to work with in terms of escape methods._ But her friends were all sitting ducks, stuck in the river while orcs swarmed the bridge.

 _Not if I have anything to say about it._ Quinn drew her sword and charged into the clearing. As the sun hit her blade, the metal began to glow.

She still didn't have a great handle on aiming her sword lasers, so she tried to focus on the orc-heavy areas of the battlefield. Her blows could strike down two or three each, and once they fell, they didn't get back up.

The elves reacted to her appearance with surprise at first, but didn't protest. They moved with deadly grace, striking and blocking and dodging with dizzying speed and accuracy. It was all Quinn could do to keep up with how they were moving.

As the fight continued, the orcs drew closer and she was forced to use her actual sword to fight. She brought up her blade to block a downward strike from an orc's machete, and flinched as it stopped mere inches from her face.

A second later, Tauriel drove a knife through the orc's throat. "Do you have any training with that blade?"

"Uh...no?" Quinn turned and sliced an orc in the stomach, knocking it back into the river. She glanced to the side and was momentarily distracted as a blond elf passed, stabbing two orcs with his twin knives. Her eyes widened as she realized she recognized him. "Oh my god, Legolas! What are you doing here?"

"I do not believe we have met," Legolas said, kicking another orc in the leg and slashing its throat as it fell.

"Yeah, I just remembered! Forget everything I said!"

A quick glance over at the river confirmed that the dwarves were fighting back from their barrels. Somehow Dwalin, Fíli, and Óin had gotten their hands on orc weapons and were stabbing any enemies that got too close.

Movement on the bridge caught her eye, and she realized she'd left one dwarf unaccounted for. Kíli had his own orcish sword and was cutting a path through the orcs. On the other side of the bridge was a lever, likely the one that controlled the sluice gate.

Quinn changed directions and began fighting her way towards the bridge. If the dwarves were about to make their big escape, she was going with them.

A guttural shout sounded from the woods, and the orcs began to converge towards the bridge as well. She glanced in that direction and saw a tale, pale orc (was that _metal_ welded to his face?) nock an arrow in his bow.

Her eyes followed the arrow's trajectory straight to Kíli, who was busy trading blows with another orc.

After a split-second decision, she twisted her body into the path of the arrow.

 **Thranduil always gotta have beef with my OCs, idk.**

 **Sidenote: if any of y'all have five minutes to spare, the song Legend of Steel by Luca Turilli is a great song and fits pretty well with this fic.**

 **Thanks as always for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Huge thanks to drwatsonn for reviewing. Until next time!**


	14. Stealth

**Chapter 14: Stealth**

"Ouch" didn't really cover what Quinn was feeling at the moment.

Her sword fell from her grip as pain exploded in her upper arm. Her knees hit the ground a second after. She cried out and tried to put a hand over the spot, only to discover there was an _arrow_ sticking out of her arm.

 _Yeah. Cause and effect, dumbass_.

The sounds of the fight and the rush of the river faded as all of her senses converged on the injury. Nothing had ever hurt as bad as her arm did at the moment.

After a while, the ringing in her ears subsided enough that she could hear someone yelling her name. Heaving in deep breaths, she looked up to see Kíli fighting off an orc with one hand and beckoning her over with another. He'd almost reached the lever.

Quinn staggered to her feet as nausea boiled in her gut. She reached down to pick up her sword with her good hand, and swallowed as she realized it was covered in blood— _her_ blood.

With uneven steps, she made her way over to the barrels. The dwarves that weren't fighting for their lives were watching her with concern.

"Get in!" Kíli shouted, then pulled the lever.

 _Now or never_. Quinn mustered all of her strength and jumped. Just holding out her arms for balance sent another burst of agony through her injury. She landed with a jolt in an empty barrel.

Next to her, Óin held out his hand as the barrels began to drift through the open gate. "Give me your arm."

"Fix it please," she said, then screamed as the arrow gave a nasty jolt.

Óin tossed the broken shaft into the river. "That'll keep it from jostling around. We'll get you patched up soon as we—"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a roar of water as the barrels went over the small waterfall on the other side of the sluice gate. The momentum threw her against the other side of the barrel, and as she bounced back, her knees buckled.

Quinn slid down to the bottom and stayed there, knees against her chest, flinching every time a spray of cold water splashed in over the top. She braced one hand against the opposite side the barrel to try and keep her injured arm from bumping into the wood.

Around her, she could hear shouts and clashing weapons, but it sounded far away, like the barrel was fifty feet long.

Another jolt threw her sword against her shoulder, and Quinn nudged it away with a wince. She knew she should stand up and help the dwarves, but her body stayed frozen. The pain in her arm was overwhelming, and the thought of even having to look at another orc's bow made her nauseous.

So she stayed there, curled up and shivering with a strange ringing in her ears, until the current finally slowed and became calm.

"Everyone all right?" Thorin called, and received several grunts in the affirmative.

"I can't hear ya, I think I've got water in my ears," Bofur said. "My brain's swimming in it."

"Up you go, Ori," Dwalin said. "On your feet."

Something blocked out the sunlight coming into Quinn's barrel. She glanced up.

"There you are." Óin stuck a hand in.

Numbly, she took it and let him pull her out. A quick glance around informed her that they'd ended up near a stretch of rocky shore between the river and the forest. She stepped out of the barrel and fell face-first into the water.

The plunge into the cold river was more of a shock than she expected, and brought her back to her senses. Quinn surfaced with a gasp, spitting out curses and water. "Fuck, that's cold."

"Steady, now." Glóin took one arm, Óin the other, and they helped her to shore. The latter guided her over to a rock and made her sit.

"The arrow's buried deep," he said, examining her arm. "Could have been worse, though. A couple inches to the right and it would have cut an artery."

"That's bad, right?" Quinn wiped some river water off her face. "God, this is so much worse than a flu shot."

"I've not the tools needed to remove it. We'll have to bind it for now."

"Do it quickly," Thorin said as he passed. "We have an orc pack on our tail. We need to get moving."

Quinn took a deep breath and grit her teeth as Óin began winding a strip of cloth around her arm. The pressure only increased the pain radiating from her wound and made it start to throb horribly.

"Your first battle wound," Kíli came up and clapped her on her good shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to get this thing sawed off." She hissed through her teeth as Óin tied off the cloth. "Then it'd stop hurting so fucking bad."

He chuckled and sat next to her. "I saw you out there, fighting those orcs. You—"

"Could use some improvement," Fíli said, coming up next to his brother. "It looked like you were trying to swat a fly with your sword."

Kíli mimed the wild swinging movements she'd used, and despite the pain, Quinn found herself smiling. Being shot in the arm _sucked_. But if she had to go back, she'd do the same rather than have one of the dwarves get hurt.

Behind them, Bifur uttered something in the dwarf language that sounded like a warning, and everyone tensed up and turned towards the forest.

Someone was standing on the rocks above them, an arrow nocked in his bow. Quinn looked around for the nearest thing she could hide behind. She was _done_ with arrows for the day.

The man aimed the arrow at Dwalin as the he stepped forward, holding a big stick he'd found somewhere. "Not a step closer, dwarf."

"We mean you no harm," Balin said, hands held up in a gesture of peace. "We are travelers, unarmed." He glanced at something farther down the river that Quinn couldn't see. "You are from Lake-town, correct? That barge over there wouldn't happen to be for hire, would it?"

The man frowned at them for a moment, then lowered his bow. "I'm charged with bringing those barrels back to Lake-town. Help me move them, then we'll talk."

Balin nodded, and the dwarves went down to the banks and began hauling the barrels out of the river.

Óin patted her back before he went. "You just rest your arm for now."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see someone approaching, and held back a grimace as she realized it was Thorin. "Hey," she said, half-turning towards him.

"I saw what you did, back there," he said, coming to a halt in front of her.

"Yeah." She scratched her nose, embarrassed. "Kinda lost my balance getting out of the barrel."

"You took an arrow for Kíli."

"Oh. That." She straightened a little. Maybe this was how she proved herself as a slightly-less-incompetent-ancient-warrior. Though she wasn't sure an arrow in her arm was totally worth it.

"You have my thanks. You saved his life."

Quinn shrugged her good shoulder. "It was nothing."

Thorin crossed his arms. "My nephew's life is worth more than _nothing_ , and I'll thank you not to treat it as such."

 _Geez, I really can't say the right thing around this guy_. "I-I know that. I just meant..." She swallowed, finding it hard to make eye contact. "I don't regret what I did."

"I won't forget it, either." He gave her another short nod, like he had in the dungeons, then left to help with the barrels.

Quinn let out a long, slow breath. She couldn't decide whether that was a point for her, or a point for him. Maybe it was a point for Kíli, who currently had zero puncture wounds.

A few minutes later, Bilbo came up to her, holding her sword. "Found this in one of the barrels. I think you might need it."

"Thanks, man." She smiled and slid it into the sheath at her hip. At least it hadn't been her sword arm to get shot.

"Was Thorin giving you a hard time?" He glanced over at the dwarf, his eyes lingering on him for a few seconds.

"Uh, no? Maybe. It's kind of hard to tell with him."

"He is rather...enigmatic." Bilbo turned back to her. "How's your arm feeling?"

"Well, the arrow's still in there, so better by the second." She turned it towards him. "Wanna sign my bandage?"

"Sign it? You mean write my name?"

"Yeah. But you gotta write 'Lil B.' I'm gonna try and make that a thing."

Bilbo made a face at her, like he usually did when she said something extra confusing. But before he could respond, Fíli whistled and beckoned for them to join the group farther up the banks.

Quinn and Bilbo made their way up the rocky slope. At the top was a stone dock and a small barge filled with barrels. The man from before was standing next to the boat, speaking with Balin.

"I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands."

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin replied with a smile.

He glanced at Quinn and tilted his head. "Simple merchants, you say?"

Well, she was standing there in full armor with a sword strapped to her hip and a bandage around one arm. All the dwarves turned to look at her, and she was simultaneously surprised and irritated that they trusted her to come up with her own cover story. She said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm...a bodyguard."

That seemed to fly with the archer. He shrugged and continued moving barrels into the barge.

Thorin stepped forward. "We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?"

The man glanced at him, then turned and looked pointedly at the barrels. One finger traced a scratch where the wood had been pierced by one of the orcs' arrows. "I know where these barrels came from."

"What of it?"

"I don't' know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well. No one enters Lake-town but by leave of the master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

 _Shit_. Quinn glanced around at their group, and it hit her that they were basically all fugitives. That would have been pretty exciting, except being a fugitive usually involved getting shot at.

"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," Balin said.

"Aye. But for that, you would need a smuggler."

"For which we would pay double."

Quinn turned to Ori and whispered, "Wait, you guys have money?"

He looked up and nodded. "Do you have that in your world?" he whispered back.

"No, we do. I guess it just never came up before." She shrugged. "We've never really had to buy stuff before."

The man seemed to be mulling over Balin's offer. After a moment, he gestured to the barge. "Get in."

Sighs of relief filtered through the group as they all stepped onto the boat. With the barrels, it was a little bit of a tight fit, but they made it work. The man untied the boat and pushed off, and they began drifting down the river.

It took a couple hours to reach the lake. As the barge moved farther out, a dense fog settled on the water, and the temperature dropped. The cold somehow made her arm hurt even more. Quinn hissed through her teeth and walked over to the back of the boat, where the man was steering the vessel.

"Hey." She leaned against the side of the barge, and he glanced at her. "Do you have tweezers, by any chance? I got this arrowhead stuck in my arm, and I'd really like to get it out."

"I'm no healer. I'm afraid I cannot help you with that."

"We'll find a proper healer once we reach town," Óin told her from where he was sitting by his brother.

"Where are you from?" the man asked, making her turn. He was considering her with more interest.

"Uh…" Quinn propped one hand on the side of the barge. "Somewhere out west. You probably haven't heard of it."

"I'm only curious as to what a human warrior is doing traveling with a group of dwarves." He looked her over again. "Especially one with such finely-made armor."

She resisted the urge to fidget. The pain in her arm was making it hard to focus on a decent lie. And if the meeting with Thranduil had taught her anything, it was that bullshitting wasn't always the way to go. "What's with the Twenty Questions, Will Turner? I thought smugglers weren't supposed to ask questions."

"When you live in a place like Lake-town, you learn to be suspicious. And my name is Bard, not...Will Turner."

"Okay, Bard. So what's this Lake-town place like? It sounds kinda sketchy."

"Sketchy?"

"Shady."

Bard tilted his head. "I'm not sure what you mean. But you will have to be careful. Parts of the town are dangerous, and there are spies in unexpected places."

"Sounds shady to me. Are we gonna sneak in through the sewers or something?"

"There are no sewers." He rested one hand on the tiller. "The town is built directly on the lake."

Quinn stared at him. "You're shitting me."

Bard shook his head with a slight smile, seeming to at least understand that phrase. "We have wooden beams reaching down to the bottom of the lake. Those help support the buildings."

"That is so cool." She straightened and turned towards the front of the boat, searching the fog for any sign of the town.

At that moment, the fog did part, but it wasn't a town that caught her attention. To the left, a vast shape appeared. Several of the dwarves fell silent, some even standing up to get a better look.

Quinn had grown up near mountains, so they were nothing new to her. But seeing this peak towering in the very near distance was strangely awe-inspiring. She couldn't help but think back to the pillar where the eagles had dropped them off, and how the mountain had been nothing more than a bump on the horizon here.

Now, it was undeniably _real_ , and close enough to make her realize that the quest was almost at an end. Their next step, after getting through Shade-town, was to fight the dragon. Goosebumps rose on her arms that had nothing to do with the weather.

Bard walked forward, interrupting the moment. "The money. Give it to me, quick."

Thorin shook his head. "We will pay you when we get our provisions, and not before."

"We are almost at the outpost. If you do not wish to be caught by the guards, then you'll do as I say."

Quinn followed him to the center of the boat. "So what's the plan, here? How are we sneaking in if there's no sewers?"

Bard glanced around at the dwarves and hesitated. "I know a fisherman. Sells his catch for cheap. If you hide in the barrels and we fill the rest with fish—"

The dwarves erupted into protests.

"We've spent enough time in those damned barrels!"

"How'd you like your head shoved in a bucket of fish, you mangy bargeman?"

"Yeah, that idea sucks," Quinn said.

Bard's face reddened, and he hissed for them to quiet down. "How else do you expect to pass through unnoticed? There are no lids on these barrels—"

"Just flip them upside down," she said, gesturing to the closest one with her uninjured arm. "Then it looks like they're closed."

He stopped and blinked. "I hadn't thought of that."

"That'd work," Glóin said amongst approving murmurs from the dwarves."

"Classic Wind Waker move," Quinn said. "You guys can thank me later."

"Do it quickly, then." Bard gestured for them to move, sending a nervous glance up ahead. Through the fog, the outline of a couple buildings was visible.

They moved swiftly, helping each other under the barrels with surprising coordination for the limited space. Soon, they were all out of sight inside the cramped containers.

As they drew closer to the town, the smell of fish became more and more evident, along with another pungent scent she couldn't identify.

"I owe you one, Quinn," Bombur whispered from the next barrel over. "I like fish well enough, but I'd not like to be buried in it."

"I got you, Big B."

Bard kicked her barrel. "Quiet! We're approaching the gate."

She muttered a few choice words into her forearm, then fell silent. A few minutes later, the creak of a gate opening was audible.

"Halt!" called a man once they had passed through the gate. "Goods inspection! Oh, it's you, Bard."

"Hello, Percy. Here are my papers."

"Thank you very much. Anything to declare, today?" Footsteps creaked on wood.

"Nothing, except I am cold and tired and ready for home."

"You and me both." A small thump sounded. "Well, it appears everything is in order. You're free to go."

"Now, hold on just a second," a new voice sounded. "Percy, my friend, are you going to let these barrels go without checking them first?"

Quinn nearly smacked her forehead. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

"Hello, Alfrid," Bard said stiffly. "I wasn't aware you went anywhere without the master."

"Well, he's a busy man. And I've got to help keep an eye on things, make sure rules are being followed." There was the noise of rustling papers. "'Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm,' it says here. How can we make sure these barrels are truly empty?"

Quinn tried to shift as quietly as she could in the narrow space. _Worst case scenario, I jump up, Batista Bomb this Alfrid guy into the lake, and run like hell_.

 _Even worse case scenario, Bilbo had to break us out of jail again_.

"You're wasting your time, Alfrid." The barge floor creaked, as though Bard was stepping between him and the barrels. "We're not due for another shipment from the elves until next week. And there's not much else I could be picking up between here and there, unless there's a high demand for river rocks."

A minute of tense silence passed. Finally, Alfrid said, "The master has his eye on you, Bard. You'd do well to remember—we know where you live."

"It's a small town, Alfrid." Bard moved back to the tiller, and the barge began to move again. "Everyone knows where everyone lives."

Ten minutes passed, and no one else stopped them. The sounds of civilization—conversation, footsteps, livestock—began to fill the air.

Quinn let her head fall back against the side of the barrel and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Holy shit."

Her idea had actually worked. They'd made it in.

 **Wow, one of Quinn's plans actually worked for once! We'll see how long that lasts!**

 **Thanks as always to drwatsonn for reviewing. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I'll have the next one up soon.**


	15. Surgeon Simulator

**Chapter 15: Surgeon Simulator**

"So...what now?"

The barge had stopped in a quieter part of town. Around her, Quinn could hear the dwarves fidgeting. It had been close to half an hour since they'd first hidden under the barrels, and it was clear everyone was getting a little antsy.

"I got another idea, guys." She massaged her leg to try and keep it from falling asleep. "We can sneak around under the barrels. Just lift it up a little bit and as long as you walk slowly, no one should notice."

Everyone was silent.

"I think you've used up all your good ideas for the day, Quinn," Bofur finally said.

"It worked in Wind Waker," she grumbled. "And Toy Story 2."

Bard rapped on the top of the barrel. "Keep your voices down. From here you'll need to get into the water. Swim two blocks down and wait below the, uh, opening beneath my house. I'll let you know when it's safe to come up."

"I like my idea better."

He sighed. "Come on. We haven't got all day. I'll try and distract anyone who comes this way."

So one by one, they crept out from under the barrels and into the water. Quinn winced when it was her turn to get in. The water was freezing, and smelled weird. She moved aside to make room for Thorin and looked around. From here, she had a nice view of the foot of space between the water and the bottom of the town. A forest of wooden beams stretched on for as far as she could see.

Bilbo was the last to leave the barge. He lowered himself into the water, but kept one hand braced on the edge of the boat. "Um, there is a s-slight problem."

Quinn and Thorin turned towards him. The others had already gone on ahead towards the house.

"I don't know how to swim."

"What?" Her eyebrows flew up. "Seriously?" She'd always thought the only people who didn't learn how to swim were from Kansas or something. Maybe the Shire was like Kansas.

Thorin moved closer to him. "Hold on to me. I'll keep you afloat for now."

Bilbo flushed at that, but he put an arm around the dwarf's neck, and they continued on to catch up with the others.

The dwarves waiting beneath Bard's house did not seem to be happy, grumbling to each other and glancing upwards for some reason.

"I should have tossed him into the lake when I had the chance," Dwalin said.

"What's up?" Quinn asked, swimming to the middle of the crowd. "Is something wrong?"

Wordlessly, Bombur pointed up. She followed his gesture to find a raised section of the floor with a weird-looking opening at the top. She stared at it for a moment, then stiffened as she recognized the shape.

"No."

"Aye."

"We're swimming right under it!" Quinn exclaimed, then lowered her voice as several dwarves shushed her. "These people seriously shit directly into the lake? I'm over it. We need to get out of this Low Budget Venice, _stat_."

Before she could start swimming away, a couple knocks sounded from above.

"That's the signal." With a grimace, Nori reached up and pulled himself up and out of the toilet.

"Normally, this would be hilarious," Quinn muttered as she got in line to climb up. "But right now I kind of want to peel off my skin."

"Cheer up." Bofur patted her shoulder. "We could be back in the elvenking's dungeons which, as you were to keen to point out, had no toilets at all."

She sighed. "I never should have said anything about the sewers."

"Well, the faster you stop complaining and climb up, the faster you'll be out of it," Glóin said. Despite his gruff tone, he helped her up, and Fíli reached down to pull her the rest of the way through.

Quinn looked around at the small porch, then followed the rest of the dwarves up the stairs. The room above was pretty cramped, with a large table taking up space in the middle and clutter around the edges making it feel even smaller. It didn't help that there was now a growing population of dwarves filing in, along with Bard and what she guessed were his three children.

"Sigrid, get a fire going," Bard said as he walked over to one of the back rooms.

"Da, what are all these dwarves doing in our house?" the teenage girl, Sigrid, asked.

"Will they bring us luck?" added the younger girl.

"They'll only be here for a short time," he replied, coming out of the room with an armful of clothes. "Here." Bard dumped them on the table. "They're not the best fit, but they're dry, and they'll keep your warm."

 _Well, that's nice. I guess he's trying to make up for the toilet thing_. Quinn shrugged and reached for a burgundy shirt at the top of the pile as the rest of the dwarves grabbed their own articles of clothing and began changing out of their wet ones.

And just like that, Bard's house became a fantasy version of a boy's locker room. Quinn tried to keep her eyes averted as she changed.

 _Man, my friends considered me as 'one of the guys' back home, but never like this._

Fifteen minutes later, their old clothes were steaming in front of the fire, and the dwarves were scattered about the room.

Quinn looked down as someone tapped her leg. The younger of the two girls looked up at her.

"You're not a dwarf."

"Nope." She sat down on one of the boxes near the wall so they were more or less at eye level. "I'm a human." _I think_.

"Are you a boy or a girl?"

"Tilda!" Sigrid walked over, placing one hand on her sister's back. "You're not supposed to ask such things." She turned to Quinn. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good. I'm a girl. What about you?"

Tilda looked a little confused by her question, but said, "I'm a girl, too."

Quinn nodded and raised her eyebrows at Sigrid.

"I-I am as well," she replied, looking flustered.

"And now we're all introduced!" She spread her hands. "The name's Quinn. Nice to meet you both."

"What happened to your arm?" Tilda asked, looking at her bandage.

"Tilda…"

"I got shot," Quinn said. The kid was curious, and she didn't mind answering her questions. "You wanna touch it?"

Without even answering, she reached out and poked it. Quinn winced, biting back a groan as the pain in her arm flared up.

"Bad idea, _bad idea_."

"That's enough, Tilda. We have chores to do, remember?" Sigrid ushered her sister away, casting an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

"Would you let the kid pull your hair too, if she asked?" Nori took a seat beside her.

Quinn unclenched her teeth with some effort, fighting against the waves of agony radiating from her wound. "I think that'd probably hurt _way_ less than what she just did, so yeah."

Movement across the room made her look up. Bard and his son had stepped closer to where Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo were talking.

"You speak as if you were there," Bard said.

Thorin crossed his arms. "All dwarves know the tale."

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon," the son said. "He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast."

"That's a fairy story, lad," Dwalin scoffed. "Nothing more."

"A weak spot, huh?" Quinn said to Nori. "So that's probably your best bet for killing the dragon."

"If it exists," Nori said. "People here live under the shadow of that dragon every day. Like as not, they've invented tales to keep themselves occupied."

She turned to look at him. "So if there is no weak spot, how do you plan on killing the it?"

"Well, we were hoping for some ancient warrior help on that front." Nori looked at her out of the corner of his eye, making her blush. "But our original plan was to steal a jewel from within the mountain—that's why we needed Bilbo, as our burglar. The Arkenstone is a symbol of the king's right to rule, and it is the only thing that would rally the seven dwarf kingdoms to march upon the mountain. With that kind of might, we'd have a chance at stopping the dragon."

"Hold on, back up." Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to wrap her head around the plan. "I get the whole...army thing, but why do you need Bilbo? I thought _you_ were the one who stole things for a living."

"I am. But Gandalf's reasoning was that hobbits were naturally sneaky, and that the dragon wouldn't recognize his scent. None of us were really sure if Bilbo would amount to anything, but look at him now." He gestured to the hobbit, who was sitting next to Bofur with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked more like a stuffed animal than a burglar about to go up against a dragon.

"That's wild that he decided to go through with it," she said. "Also, I don't get the whole scent thing. You don't want anyone smelling you, cover yourself with mud or walker guts."

"Mud or what?"

"Nothing. Not actually relevant in this case, but my point still stands."

Nori chuckled. "You have some very interesting ideas, Quinn. And I liked your trick with the barrels."

"Thanks. We should hook up sometime."

"Sure."

She glanced at him. "You actually know what that means?"

He winked at her. "I can read context well enough."

They both looked up as a _thump_ sounded from the table. Bard had deposited a long, wet package on the wood. "The weapons you were promised." He opened the package.

Quinn stood up and walked over to the table, curious. The pile on the table mostly consisted of what looked like old tools. _I guess they make do in Lake-town_.

The dwarves stared at the weapons for a moment, then began picking them up.

"What is this?" Thorin asked with a glare, holding up a hooked object.

"A pike-hook, fashioned from an old harpoon," Bard said.

"And this?" Kíli held up something that looked like Spirit Halloween's off-brand Mjolnir.

"A crowbill, we call it. Fashioned from an old smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none." He frowned as the dwarves began shaking their heads.

"We paid you for weapons," Glóin said. The trip through the river hadn't done him any favors, and he was practically drowning in frizzy red hair. "Iron forged swords and axes!"

"It's a joke!" Bofur added, and the dwarves began tossing the weapons back onto the table—a fishing spear, what looked like a really long fire poker, Steve's bat from Stranger Things.

"You won't find better outside the city armory," Bard said with a scowl. "All iron-forged weapons are held their under lock and key."

"Thorin," Balin said. "Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less, and so have you."

Quinn saw no problem with that. If it was sharp or heavy or both, then it counted as a weapon. These guys clearly hadn't seen enough zombie apocalypse movies.

"I say we leave now."

"You're not going anywhere," Bard said.

Dwalin spun around like he was about to clock him. "What did you say?"

"There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in town. You must wait till nightfall."

Bard gave the dwarves one last warning glance, then turned and walked out the front door. Quinn watched the dwarves disperse around the house, then turned and followed him.

"Hey." She poked her head out the door. Bard was leaning both hands against the railing, brow furrowed as if he was in deep thought.

He turned towards her. "Did I not _just_ say that there are spies watching this house?"

Quinn waved him off. "I'm human. I'm not about to get racially profiled." She stepped out of the house and shut the door behind her. "But that's something that I've been meaning to ask you about."

Bard crossed his arms. "What is it you want to know?"

"Well, I was listening to that Alfrid guy talk earlier, and he made it seem like you're a person of interest for the master. Hence the spies. You also have a _lot_ of clothes for a presumably straight, not-that-wealthy guy. And next thing I know, you're pulling out a hidden stash of makeshift weapons. Am I missing something here, or do you put on a mask at night and beat up criminals?"

"I—" His mouth opened and closed silently for a few seconds. "I do not own any masks, and I spend my nights sleeping. But about the weapons…" He glanced around, then lowered his voice. "As I said before, the guards have all the iron-forged weapons. And they are paid well to do everything the master bids. The man who runs this town is not a just one, and if there ever were a situation where we needed to defend ourselves…"

"I got you." She nodded. "Second Amendment rights. But what about the clothes?"

Bard shook his head. "You have your secrets, I have mine."

"Fair enough." Quinn winked at him. "I won't tell anyone." But she really had no idea what the clothes were for.

"My turn to ask questions."

"Shoot."

"Who is the leader of the dwarves? They call him Thorin, and that name sounds...familiar."

"Oh yeah, because he's—" Quinn stopped herself. The dwarves were still operating under the cover of being merchants, and she didn't want to blow that. "He's got a super common name with dwarves. You know? It's like, he gets a new job and _of course_ there's already another person named Thorin working there. Even harder for them 'cause dwarves don't have last names. I think. You ever have that problem? Know anyone else named Bard?"

"I don't, as a matter of fact." Bard studied her face for a moment. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

She moved aside to let him pass. "Buying more clothes? Have fun."

He shot her a look over his shoulder.

Smiling to herself, Quinn went back inside. Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin were still gathered around the table, discussing the weapons.

"These won't do," Thorin was saying. "We still might have orcs to contend with when we leave town."

Kíli nodded. "So we find the armory, take what we need…"

"And leave for the mountain right after," Fíli finished for him.

"Sounds like someone is planning a heist." Quinn walked up to the table. "So, do we know where this armory is?"

Thorin locked eyes with her as the others fell silent. "My decision back at Beorn's house still stands. You are not coming with us to the mountain."

"Oh." She probably should have guessed as much, but being caught up in the barrel escape and sneaking into Lake-town had made her feel like she was part of the Company again. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, "In that case, I want you to take my sword with you."

Thorin's eyes widened, and the rest of the dwarves turned to look at her.

"I mean, I kind of suck at using it, and I'm figuring it'll probably be put to better use fighting dragons or orcs than stuck here with me. I'm sorry I couldn't be the ancient warrior you guys wanted, but…" She reached down to unbuckle the sheath from her belt. "At least you can have my sword. Which is not coming off." She pulled harder at the straps. "Gah, this fucking thing." She gave up trying to figure it out. "I was going to put it on the table, but whatever. I'll give it to you once you guys get ready to leave."

Kíli was smiling at her, and Dwalin and Balin looked vaguely impressed. Thorin looked like he might give her another Nod. Only Fíli was frowning, and he turned towards the latter.

"Uncle, Quinn is just as much of a fugitive from the orcs and the elves as we are. Are you sure it's safe to—"

"I'll be fine," she said. She'd just given a dramatic and honorable speech, and she wasn't about to have them worrying about putting her in the Witness Protection Program or something. "Seriously, I'll be fine here, in the shadiest town I've ever been in. Plenty of places to hide, if any elves or orcs show up."

"The orcs, at least, will be after my Company, not you," Thorin said. He glanced around the table. "We leave for the armory at sundown."

"Well, we've got a few hours until then," Óin said, walking up to the table. "Time to tend to your arm."

Quinn groaned, but let him guide her over to a chair. He placed her injured arm on the table and began unwrapping the bandages.

"So, is this gonna hurt much?"

"Well, that depends. If the arrowhead is lodged in your bone, then I expect we'll have to—" He finished unwinding the bandages and cursed.

She looked over at her arm and choked out a swear of her own. Through the dark blood around the wound, the broken shaft of the arrow was visible. But what was most disturbing was the skin surrounding it. Dark lines—her veins—branched out from the wound. "Is it supposed to look like that?"

"Poison. I should have known." Óin cursed again in the dwarvish language and stood up. "Someone get me some chamomile."

"I don't want any tea." Quinn rubbed her forehead. Her hand came back damp with sweat.

"What kind of poison is it?" Fíli asked. Everyone was watching her with concern.

"I'm not sure yet." Óin came back with a cloth and a bowl of water and began cleaning the blood away. "But it can't be good if it came from an orc."

Quinn clenched her teeth until they ached. Even the slightest pressure on her arm was agonizing. She cried out and tried to jerk away as he twisted the arrow slightly. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Aye, it's stuck in the bone." Óin sighed. "Someone hold her down. We need to pull the head out, _now_."

"That's what she sa—OW!"

"Sorry, lass." Glóin adjusted his grip on her arm. Kíli stood on her other side and put a comforting hand on her shoulder while Óin began cleaning a small knife and a pair of tongs.

"Can't you just cut the whole thing off? I feel like that would be easier at this point."

"The poison's already in your blood."

Nori walked over and held out one of the sheaths for his knives. "Here."

She stared at it. "Huh?"

"Better bite down on this than on your tongue, eh?"

Whatever retort she had ready was cut off as he shoved the piece of leather into her mouth, and Óin began cutting into her arm.

 **In doing my research like a good little writer, I read an article on removing arrowheads...and decided to leave the surgery part up to the imagination. I'm not a squeamish person but that had me shook. Just trying to keep this story rated T.**

 **So do we have any theories on why Bard has 15+ shirts in his ownership?** **Is Bard truly a vigilante superhero? (Bardman?) More at 11.**

 **Tomorrow I go back to school, but I will still try and shoot for regular updates. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Much love to mercutios and drwatsonn for reviewing. And as always, feel free to leave a comment on this chapter as well. Until next time!**


	16. Drink Up, There's More!

**Chapter 16: Drink Up, There's More!**

Quinn sighed, blinking sleep away. Her whole body felt heavy and raw, like she'd just ran a mile. She sat up and immediately cursed as her head smashed into something solid.

After a moment, the world stopped spinning, and she finally got a sense for her surroundings. "Why am I under the table? What time is it?"

Óin's face appeared as he bent down to look at her. "Ah, you're finally awake."

Quinn glanced at her arm. A fresh bandage had been wound around her injury. She must have passed out while they were removing the arrowhead. Her arm still hurt like hell, though.

With a groan, Quinn put her weight on her good arm and scooted out from under the table. The windows were dark, but a few candles had been lit inside. Behind Óin, Bard's children were peering down at her. "How did I end up down here?"

"You were unconscious, and we couldn't move you," Sigrid said apologetically. "And you were, um, in the way."

"That makes perfect sense." She tried to swallow against the dryness in her throat. "Once I passed out during a party and my friends put a boogie board on me so they'd have somewhere to put their drinks."

Óin helped her up and into a chair. "I've applied a poultice that should help slow the poison." He handed her a cup. "This should help with your symptoms."

Quinn grunted and drained the cup. Whatever was in it tasted bitter and stuck to the back of her throat, but at this point she wasn't being picky with her painkillers. "Where is everyone?"

"They left about an hour ago for the armory."

She shifted in her seat, feeling a twinge of disappointment that she'd missed them leave. "Why aren't you with them?"

Óin straightened. "My duty lies with the wounded, dwarf or no."

"But you're going to catch up with them, right?" Quinn frowned. "I'd hate for you to be stuck here with me while they're off reclaiming the mountain. I'm already feeling better." She tried to raise her arms, but gave up halfway through with a wince. "Mostly."

"I'll have to monitor your injury for signs of infection. Not to mention the poison."

Quinn shook her head. "I could always find another doctor in town. Seriously, I don't want to be holding you up."

The door banged open, making her jump. Bard entered the house, eyes sweeping over the room. "How long have they been gone?"

His son hurried up to him. "Da, I tried to stop them, but—"

Bard was already crossing the room to stand in front of Óin. "You are no merchant. You're traveling with the King under the Mountain."

Óin turned to him and cupped a hand behind his ear. "I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up, laddie. I haven't the best of hearing."

"Your companions wanted weapons so they could reclaim the mountain from the dragon," Bard said, fists clenched.

"Hold on, where is this coming from?" Quinn asked. "I thought you were cool with them having weapons."

"That was until I learned your true purpose." Bard turned on his heel and started towards the door.

"Da, where are you going?" Sigrid asked.

"I have to stop them," he replied, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. "Stay inside. I'll be back soon."

"Wait, what?" Quinn staggered to her feet with Óin's help, and the two of them hurried to the door and followed Bard down to the street.

"I'm lost." She jogged to catch up to him. "Why are you so fired up right now?"

Bard didn't break his stride. "Those dwarves will get us all killed."

"Now I'm even more lost."

"There is a prophecy spoken here, passed down by the town elders. It speaks of the return of the King under the Mountain." He glanced at her, his eyes glinting with fear. "But it also speaks of the destruction of this town."

"Okay, but that's just some words old people say. Happens all the time where I'm from. People kept saying we'd have flying cars in 2000, but that shit didn't come true."

He frowned. "I do not know much about where you're from. But here, words have meaning. Prophecies come true. And if they wake that dragon, nothing will stop it from burning everything in its path."

"Well..." That wasn't the plan, exactly. They weren't supposed to kill the dragon until they had the manpower—or rather, _dwarf_ power—to do it.

But there was the chance the dragon would wake before that could happen. Quinn just didn't understand how Lake-town would get involved. All she knew was that she couldn't let Bard blow the dwarves' cover.

"Look, I really think you're jumping to conclusions, here."

" _Thorin_ is the name of your leader, is it not? He is the heir to the throne."

Several voices sounded up ahead. As they rounded the corner, Quinn realized a large crowd had gathered in the square.

"I'm telling you, Thorin is just a really common dwarf name."

Just then, Dwalin's voice became audible in the middle of the crowd: "This is Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór!"

Bard shot her a look that was half-exasperation, half-anger. "You were saying?"

"Uh...those are also common dwarf names, actually."

The crowd quieted down, and Thorin's voice carried across the square: "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland."

Quinn sighed. "You know what? I'm not even going to try anymore."

"I remember this town in the great days of old," he continued. "Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake—this was the center of all trade in the north!"

The crowd cheered at that. Apparently Thorin had decided to switch tactics. Get the people to love him, and he wouldn't have to steal anything.

"I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more through the halls of Erebor!" More cheers. Quinn took a deep breath. Their excitement was infectious. Despite his reserved and often gruff demeanor, Thorin really knew how to rile up a crowd.

Bard growled under his breath and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Death! That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

The crowd fell silent again. Some people whispered to one another. Quinn tried to inch her way to the front without having anyone bump her injured arm.

Thorin barely glanced at the man. "You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

The crowd went back to cheering. Quinn glanced around. Clearly these people were just here for the drama of it all, the way they kept going back and forth. She glanced at Bard's scowling face and wondered, on a scale of rap battle to wrestling match, how intense this debate was going to be.

"Why should we take you for your word, eh?" someone else spoke up. She recognized the voice—it was Alfrid, standing on the porch of the large building that must have been the Town Hall. Next to him was a man with badly dyed ginger hair and the worst comb over ever. She guessed from Bard's earlier comment that this was the master.

 _God, they have the messiest people running this town. No wonder it looks like shit_.

"We know nothing about you," Alfrid continued. "Who here can vouch for your character?"

Quinn frowned at that. _Are we running campaign ads now? Someone's gotta make sure Thorin's got a clean criminal record?_

"Me." Bilbo raised his hand. "I'll vouch for him."

Several people murmured in confusion, looking around for who had spoken. A woman beside Quinn craned her neck to try and find him in the crowd.

"Now, I have traveled far with these dwarves through great danger. We would not have made it this far had it not been for the courage and honor of our leader. If Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it."

For one moment, the stoic leader-like demeanor Thorin usually kept up faded as he looked at Bilbo with grateful affection. But that disappeared in the next second as Bard spoke up.

"All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened in Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?"

Quinn turned to Óin. "What's he talking about?"

"The dragon did not only attack Erebor. It destroyed the city of Dale at the foot of the mountain. Many of the people here are descendants of the survivors."

"Oh. Cool." She turned back to the argument. That somewhat explained Bard's fear of the dragon. She was guessing they didn't want a repeat of Dale with this other, pretty flammable town.

"Let us not forget that it was Lord Girion, _your_ ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!" the master was saying.

Bard tensed up, then said something to Thorin in a voice too low for Quinn to hear. Thorin replied at the same volume, contempt written on his features, then turned back to the master. "I speak to the master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"

The master grinned. "I say unto you...welcome!" The crowd erupted into more cheers. "Welcome, and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!"

Scowling, Bard disappeared into the crowd. The people, sensing there was no fight to be had, turned to one another and began chattering excitedly. Quinn took this opportunity to make her way over to the dwarves as they were escorted into the Town Hall.

Bilbo spotted her first. "Quinn. What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh…" She trailed off as a few of the others turned to look at her. Thorin had already officially kicked her out of the Company, so there was no real reason for her to stick around. But she didn't really have anywhere else to go at the moment. "I came to drop off my sword."

Fíli poked his head out the door. "Lads, get in here! The master's bringing out ale!"

"Well, what do you say, Quinn?" Glóin grinned up at her. "Have a round of drinks with us before we part ways."

And that was all she needed to hear to follow the others inside.

They walked into large room with a large fireplace at one end and a large table in the center. The dwarves were already pouring themselves drinks from the couple of kegs on the table. Thorin and Balin were walking off with Alfrid and the master, probably to discuss the whole gold thing.

"Does anyone else think it's weird that his position is called master instead of, like, mayor?" Quinn asked.

"What's a mayor?" Ori asked.

"Someone who governs a town."

"We have one in the Shire," Bilbo said. "But we also have a position called master."

"Guess it's a Middle-earth thing." She shrugged one shoulder. "So, what happened to the whole 'sneak into the armory' plan? I was trying to cover for you guys with Bard, but next thing I know, Thorin's telling the whole town about the quest."

"Well, we wandered around town for about an hour trying to find the armory," Ori said. "Eventually someone got suspicious and called the guards. They sent at least a dozen of them to catch us and bring us to the town square."

Quinn snorted. "So you got arrested because you got lost? That's actually kind of hilarious."

"That's what happens when you let Thorin lead the way," Bilbo muttered under his breath. "Can't read a map to save his life."

"Here we are!" Nori walked over, balancing four overflowing mugs of ale in his hands. He handed one to each of them, then began chugging his own.

"Oh, it's that kind of party, huh?" Quinn grinned.

Before she could lift her own mug, Óin put a hand over it. "You take it easy tonight, eh? You're still recovering from your wound."

"I will, I will, don't worry. This," she pulled her drink away and lifted it, "is self care."

* * *

Quinn almost felt like she was back home at one of her friends' parties. Her voice was hoarse from shouting, she couldn't really see straight, and she was absolutely losing at beer pong.

She'd gotten so hyped at playing one of her favorite games from home that she'd gotten through setting up all the mugs before remembering Middle-earth didn't have ping pong balls.

Fortunately, Bifur had produced a small wooden ball—since, as Bofur explained, he carried around a lot of small knick-knacks for his toy making business—and that had worked well enough.

Quinn drained her last cup and set it back on the table. "Oh my god, how are you so good at this?"

Bilbo shrugged, smirking. "Well, it's a rather easy game, isn't it?"

She flipped him off and staggered away from the table.

Everyone had joined in to play except for a handful of dwarves. Thorin and Balin were still upstairs, Bofur was sitting this one out after tripping and hitting his head against the table (which everyone had found hilarious until he started bleeding), and Óin was tending to him. The others had thoroughly enjoyed the game, and they had all been surprised when the hobbit had become the undefeated champion.

"Dori, you're up next," Bombur said.

"I'm not playing."

"Well, who else is going to restore the honor of Durin's line?" Nori crossed his arms. "We can't have a halfling beat us all."

"I told you at the start that I'd not participate in this ridiculous game—"

Quinn knew what she had to do. She started pounding her fists on the table, chanting, "Dori! Dori! Dori!"

The other dwarves caught on and joined in. She thought back to her comparison between the dwarves and a football stadium back in Mirkwood and decided that was nothing compared to this. She could practically feel the whole building shaking.

"All right, all right!" Dori shouted over the ruckus, walking over to the table. "I'll play one round."

Everyone cheered at this. Laughing, Quinn collapsed against one of the walls and tried to catch her breath. The pain in her arm had numbed to a dull ache, and her brain was swimming in a happy buzz.

Fíli walked over and handed her another drink. He sat down next to her and asked, "How's your arm?"

"Which one?"

"The one with an arrow-shaped hole in it."

"Uhh." Quinn glanced at the bandage. "Pretty good. Doesn't hurt that much."

"Thorin told me what you did. Few others saw it, in the chaos back at the river, but you saved my brother. I owe you for that."

"Owe me what? It was just a…" Quinn bounced her mug in her hand, absently watching frothy ale slop over the side. "You know. Doin' ancient warrior stuff. Makin' Belekur proud."

"If anything ever happened to Kíli, I don't know what I would do. We got into all sorts of trouble as children, but this…" He sighed and took a sip of his drink. "Our mother didn't want us to come on this quest. We're both barely of age. And when we insisted on going, I was charged with keeping him safe. I made a promise, to _amad_ and to myself, that I would keep him safe."

They both turned to look at Kíli, who was laughing with Bifur with flushed cheeks, one arm slung around the other dwarf's shoulder. He was happy and carefree and _fun—_ just like one of the guys she would have hung out with back home.

"This whole thing is fuckin' crazy," Quinn said. "Ending up in a new world, new body. Ending up with a bunch of dwarves. I didn't know shit about any of this. It's just crazy. But you guys are badass." She reached over to pat Fíli's shoulder. "You got this. You all got this. Just wish I could help out more."

"It's better that you stay here." Even in her drunken state, she could feel the rigidness of his posture beneath her hand.

He was afraid. They probably all were. This party was really just a big distraction.

Bard's words from earlier floated through her mind: _If they wake that dragon, nothing will stop it from burning everything in its path_.

She leaned her head against the wall and downed the rest of her drink.

 **When I wrote that line about political campaigns I started thinking about Thorin and Bard running against each other and all I could think about was:** **Bard Newport...has never had a real job in his life.**

 **I've always loved the idea that Bilbo has like superhuman aim with throwing things. So the beer pong scene was inspired by that as well as Martin Freeman's table tennis addiction while on the hobbit set.**

 **Anyway, t** **he next few chapters will be a bit dark for obvious reasons. But this is still a humor story, so bear with me! Pretty big reveal coming in a couple chapters!**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to drwatsonn for the review! Feel free to leave a comment on this chapter, I'd really appreciate it.**


	17. Homeless

**Chapter 17: Homeless**

When Quinn woke up, she was pretty sure she was still drunk. Her arm stung like a bitch. And someone was patting her down.

"Not a penny on this one. Maybe we should take the sword. Sell it to Roderic."

Her eyes creaked open. Two men were searching her clothing like a concert-goer with an abandoned McDonald's bag.

With her good arm, she grabbed the collar of the older one. He gasped and looked down at her with wide eyes—or rather, the eye that wasn't obscured by an eyepatch. The other one bolted.

"Do you have any Advil?" she rasped.

The man stuttered and jerked back. "I-I didn't mean...me 'n Dederic thought you was dead!"

"Fuck, I feel like it." Quinn let go and sat up. "Why the fuck is it daytime?"

He sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth like he was considering running away too. "You ill or somethin'?"

"Yeah." Her whole body felt woozy and heavy. She wanted nothing more than to lie down, but she needed painkillers. With a groan, she forced herself to her feet. "Where's Óin?"

"Who?"

"A...A dwarf. Where're the dwarves?" Quinn glanced around, making her head spin. She was in an alley between a building and one of the canals. _How the hell did I get here?_

"Left a couple hours ago, I think. Master gave 'em a great send off and everythin'."

"Good lord," she said, running a hand over her face. After her conversation with Fíli, she'd gotten up to cheer on Bifur as he faced Bilbo in beer pong. And she had definitely drunk more after that, since there was a big blank space where her memory was supposed to be. "Okay. Can you give me directions to the nearest hospital?"

The man made a face. "Eh?"

"Uh, doctor. Nurse. Healer. The fuck do you call them, here?"

"Oh, you're lookin' for the sickhouse! I wouldn't go there." He shook his head. "Place is overrun with lepers."

Quinn braced a hand against the wall as her body sagged with exhaustion. "I'm not even gonna ask what those are."

"You could go to one of the healers, but I doubt they'd take you."

"Why?"

"Well, you don't have any coin on you." The man paused. "Do you?"

"Nope." She slid down the wall so she was sitting again. "I am broke as shit."

"Oh." The man stood and shifted his weight awkwardly. "Well…"

"Check the public fountains. Sometimes people throw quarters in there." Quinn knew he would have no idea what that meant, but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

"You're not from here, eh?"

"Nope."

"You have somewhere to go?"

She spread her hands, indicating the empty alley.

"Right, then." He was looking at her differently now, like she was less of an abandoned McDonalds bag and more of a wounded animal he'd found on the side of the road. "Why don't you come with me?"

It wasn't like she had anything better to do. Quinn hoisted herself back to her feet, her body screaming in protest, and followed him out of the alley.

He led her down a couple blocks to an empty space between two buildings. A couple of sheets had been strung overhead to provide a roof of sorts. The other guy who had been trying to rob her, along with a young man and woman, were seated in the small area.

The former tensed up when he saw her, but the other man waved him off. "It's all right." He turned to Quinn. "This is Dederic, Tursten, and Albie. My name's Gilen."

"Quinn." She waved. "Hi."

They entered the shelter, which had a few boxes and overturned buckets for seats amid a bunch of other random crap. She immediately took a seat against the wall, glad to be able to rest. The short walk had exhausted her.

"So, what is it?" Gilen asked. "The flu? Sweating sickness?"

"Nah." Quinn pointed to the bandage on her arm. "Got shot with a poisoned arrow."

Their eyes all widened at that. "Are you a knight?" Dederic asked. He seemed to be the youngest of the four. "Haven't you got a squire?"

"Not a knight. No squire. I'm a…" _The hell even am I, anymore?_ "Warrior. I guess."

"Then how come you haven't got any coin?" Gilen asked.

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's a long story."

"What sort of poison is it?" Albie asked.

"The kind that makes your arm fucking hurt. I don't know." The persistent pain was making her snappish, and all these questions weren't helping. She was out of options in the way of medical care. Óin and the others had left to reclaim the mountain, and while she didn't begrudge any of them that, it still kind of hurt that they'd left her behind. Especially since, at the moment, she wanted nothing more than a friend to help distract her from her injury. "At this point, it kills me or it doesn't."

"I don't believe it will." Tursten, who hadn't spoken up until this point, finally opened his eyes. She'd thought he was napping.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy."

"Uh." Gilen shifted. "Tursten here believes himself to be a seer."

"Aye, and it's true," Dederic said. "Always knows when it's going to rain."

Albie rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"No, it will not be the poison that kills you," Tursten said. "But you will die in five days." He said it completely calmly, like he was telling her when the next Lakers game was.

"Dude, fuck you," Quinn said. Albie snorted. "Guess what? You're gonna die tomorrow. We'll see how that shit turns out."

The alley went silent.

"Guys, calm down. I was just joking."

But for the second time in twenty-four hours, Bard's words popped into her head: _Here, words have meaning. Prophecies come true._

Wanting to take the attention off herself, Quinn straightened and asked, "So, you guys are all homeless?"

"No," Gilen said. "House-less, perhaps, but our home is right here."

She looked around. _Yup, all it needs now is some wall art that says Bless This Mess._

"For some of us, here is better than where we came from," Albie said, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Her husband drowned himself in the lake," Gilen said. "Then both of her daughters left home. It's difficult, see, for a widow to find work here if she doesn't want to end up on her back."

"What does that...oh." Quinn glanced at Albie, then averted her eyes.

"Dederic didn't want to live with his ma, Tursten's family didn't want to live with a seer—"

"Not the word they used," Tursten said.

"And what about you?" she asked.

Gilen pointed to his eyepatch. "Accident, couple of years ago. Mishandlin' a fishin' spear. Most 'o my coin was spent on fees for the healer. Couldn't manage to get back on my feet after that."

Quinn looked down at her boots as her irritation drained away. If she'd actually had money, she would have handed all of it over to the group.

She thought she'd had it bad, but at least the dwarves had taken care of her injury. Who did these people have, except each other?

* * *

"Let's play a game."

When no one responded, Quinn flopped her head to the side, bringing Tursten, Dederic, and Albie into view. She was lying on the ground, having lost the energy to sit up a few hours ago, and had been drifting in and out of sleep.

"What sort of game?" Dederic asked.

"I dunno, any game. What do you guys play?" At this point, she was looking for a distraction. The pain in her arm had flared up to just this side of unbearable, and a terrible ache had branched out into her chest.

Albie frowned at her. "You should be resting, Quinn. You look terrible."

"Been resting all day," she rasped. The sun had set a few hours ago, and the only light in the alley was a small lantern. "I'm bored."

"I've a couple dice," Dederic said.

"Fuck yeah, I love dice." Quinn pulled herself into a sitting position with a wince. She let out a low breath as the world spun for a few seconds. "Actually, I need to pee. I think everything I drank last night just hit my bladder."

Gilen reached out for her. "Do you need—"

"I'm good, I'm good." She managed to stand after what felt like fifteen minutes. "Where's the bathroom, by the way?"

"Oh, we just go in the lake," Dederic said.

"Of course you do." Quinn staggered out of the alley. _I'm guessing public urination is a rampant problem in this town_. She stopped at the edge of the walkway, made sure no one was watching, then went about her business.

Even standing for a few seconds made white sparks appear at the edge of her vision. Quinn took a few more deep breaths, trying to focus her eyesight. She watched the water ripple, then traced the silhouette of the buildings behind her.

 _Huh. That's weird_.

There was someone standing on the roof.

Quinn turned around and looked up. The figure was bald, stocky, and dressed in ragged clothes. Her eyes dropped to the jagged shape in its hand—a machete.

"Guys," she called. "Uh, run."

Gilen stood up. "What was that?"

The orc moved, and Quinn only had time to shout, "RUN!" before it was leaping down at her.

She stumbled backwards, adrenaline numbing a fraction of the pain in her arm. With fumbling fingers, she drew her sword and held it up to the moonlight. The alley pounded with footsteps as the group of four fled in the opposite direction. The orc snarled at her and raised its weapon.

"Fuck outta here." Quinn swung her sword, blasting the orc across the walkway. She winced immediately afterwards as the motion jostled her injury. _I can't fight like this._

 _I can't fight, period_.

She turned around to run, and made it all of two feet before a whole group of orcs stepped in her path. At the front of the pack was the one with the bow—the one who had shot her back at the river—but this time he was carrying a nasty-looking mace.

"Asshole!" She raised her sword, but he knocked it away with one blow and closed his other hand around her throat. He lifted her off the ground and she choked, struggling against his grip. She kicked at him, trying to aim for the balls (assuming orcs had those).

Pain had her going limp a moment later as the orc slammed her against the wall of the closest building.

He was ugly as orcs went, but kind of terrifying up close. One eye was completely white, probably having been blinded in some fight (and she wasn't sure how she felt about having been shot by an orc with impaired depth perception). His head was also glinting in the moonlight, and she realized it was _metal_ that had been drilled into his skin.

It took a second for the ringing in her ears to subside, so she could understand what he was saying.

"Where is Oakenshield?"

"Who the fuck is that?" Quinn tried kicking again, but it was like hitting a concrete wall.

"Your dwarf companions." The orc tightened his grip. She seriously didn't understand how he expected her to answer when he was crushing her windpipe. "Where are they?"

She was in too much pain to offer more than a, "Go fuck yourself."

His gaze fell to the side, and his lips stretched into a nasty grin that showed off his jagged teeth. He released his grip on her throat, causing Quinn to fall to the ground, heaving in hoarse breaths. She hadn't made it all the way to the floor, though, before he caught her again.

The orc took hold of her arm, right over her wound, and squeezed.

When Quinn came back to herself, the pain in her arm had been upped by a thousand percent, and the tail end of a scream was leaving her sore throat. The orc was asking her about the dwarves again, but she could barely _think_ for the pain, much less speak.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her sword was lying on the ground, a mere two feet away. But Quinn had no doubt if she tried to get to it, she'd keel over on the spot. The only thing holding her up was an orc who looked like he was having way too much fun squeezing her arm like a dog with a squeaky toy.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and one of the other orcs snarled. A second later, the sound of heavy liquid spattering against the sidewalk reached her ears. The lake splashed as the orc's body fell in.

The orc holding her growled and turned to face whoever had killed one of his comrades. The rest of the group shouted and started forward, and the clash of steel followed soon after. Quinn leaned against the wall for one dizzy moment, then her knees buckled. She slumped forward, breathing hard, but someone hooked their hands under her arms and managed to hold her up.

"No, no, put me down," she slurred as nausea welled up in her throat. "I don't wanna throw up on you."

"It wouldn't be the first time," said a familiar voice.

Quinn could have cried with relief. "Tauriel?" She swallowed hard. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Stay put." The elf lowered her to the ground and propped her up against the wall, with absolutely no help from Quinn, then drew her knives and lunged for the orcs.

She couldn't tell who was winning. The clashes of steel and shouts of the orcs went in and out. Her head slumped to the side, and she tried to catch a glimpse of the fight in her periphery, not having the energy to move. Fighting the orcs (and absolutely sucking at it) had completely drained her of her strength.

There seemed to be one other elf with Tauriel, but Quinn couldn't tell who it was. She couldn't really tell anything about them, because they were glowing.

 _Fuck, am I tripping again?_

The next thing she knew was the night sky. Apparently she'd fallen over at some point. She spent a moment admiring the stars, thinking about how different they were from her world. It had been a while since she'd looked up at the constellations, considering how much of a comfort they had been to her when she'd first started out on the quest.

When she opened her eyes again, Tauriel was kneeling next to her, blocking out the sky. She was also glowing. "Quinn, are you all right?"

With a groan, she slapped her hand over her eyes. "Why are you so fucking bright?"

"Let me see your arm."

"Sure, go to town." Everything was getting fainter, further away—even her own voice sounded distant. "Pretty sure I'm at that point already."

"What do you mean?" Tauriel was grasping her arm, trying to untie the bandage, and even the gentle movement sent another spike of pain that seemed to reach all the way down to the bone.

"The, uh, dying point." Her voice cracked. "Shit, now I gotta figure out who gets all my stuff when I die. I don't wanna spend my final moments picking favorites."

"Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine." Tauriel's hands were steady as they unwound the bandage, but her voice was tense with concern.

Quinn lifted her hand from her eyes. The light was so bright now, she could barely see anything but white. It flooded her vision, and she felt herself sinking.

* * *

Eventually, the light faded to a more muted tone. Quinn blinked rapidly, taking in the formless gray sky. Her hands were wet, and after a moment's inspection, she realized she was lying in about an inch of water.

"Ugh." She sat up, wincing at the sensation of her soaked shirt sticking to her back, then froze as her eyes landed on the person standing in front of her.

It was...herself, looking very pissed.

"Usurper," other-Quinn hissed. "You took my body, and now you have condemned us both with your incompetence."

" _Your_ body?" Quinn's mouth formed a silent 'O' as the realization hit her. She pushed herself to her feet. "Your body. I got you."

 _Well this was not how I pictured this meeting._

Quinn forced a smile and held out her hand. "Hi. You must be Belekur."

 **Finally, after 16 chapters of you guys asking me, here's Belekur! Everything (well, mostly everything) will be explained next chapter.**

 **Introduced some OCs in this chapter, but they're pretty minor characters. Just needed someone for Quinn to hang out with while she's dying of poison.** **We'll see how many are left once Smaug stops by! And for those of you that have read Fëangren, I included a small reference to that story in here. Because why not.**

 **Thanks to drwatsonn for the review! And thanks to everyone for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment on this chapter, as I'd love to know your thoughts. Until next time!**


	18. Second Boss

**Chapter 18: Second Boss**

Instead of saying "hi" back, or going for a handshake, or anything normal like that, Belekur grabbed Quinn by the throat and lifted her about half a foot from the ground.

 _Alright, that is two times in one night, and I am not into it_. Quinn reached up to grip Belekur's wrist, and noticed that her own hand was a lot smaller than she was used to. She glanced down at herself and saw jeans and a Street Fighter t-shirt—she was back in her original body. That was pretty sweet, but not really the right time. Her shorter and less muscular physique probably wasn't the best for meeting a pissed off ancient warrior.

She decided talking was her best option, before she ran out of oxygen. "Do you wanna…" She swallowed, hard. Was her face really that terrifying with an angry expression? "Do you wanna maybe try talking this out first?"

Without warning, Belekur released her. Quinn fell on her ass with a splash, and scooted back several feet.

Once she was at a safe distance, she climbed to her feet for a second time, tensing up under that sharp glare. "Okay, let's get something straight, first. I didn't _take_ your body. I didn't even want it. This whole thing is one big mistake, and I was just trying to make the best of it."

Belekur advanced on her, and she backpedaled another few steps. "I have watched you stumble around for _months_ , playing the fool and lumbering through battles with only luck between you and death. It would have been less of an insult if you had shirked the quest altogether."

Quinn made a face. "So you've been watching me this whole time? How come I'm only now getting a spiritual visit from the great and mighty Belekur?"

"This is no visit. I have been trapped in this body since I arrived in Middle-earth, able to do naught but watch you and your mistakes. It is only now, as the Morgul venom erodes the boundaries between spirit and body, that I am able to speak with you."

"You mean the poison? It's eroding my _spirit_? Shit, don't you guys just have regular cyanide, here?" Quinn glanced down at her arm, but there was no arrow wound. Belekur, too, seemed to be uninjured. Maybe this place just reflected their souls or whatever, and that was why she was back in her old body. "Okay. So how do we fix this?"

"There is nothing to be done. If the dwarves manage reclaim their homeland, then our spirits will be released from Middle-earth."

"A-And if they don't?"

"I do not know what will happen if the dwarves fail. My spirit is bound to this world until my task is completed." Belekur's expression darkened. "Though it would not have come to this, had you not interfered."

Quinn flung out her hands. "Bitch, I don't know what you want from me! I didn't fucking ask for this! Sorry I'm not an invincible ninja fucking warrior who can slay a dragon, no big deal! I don't know why you're blaming me when I had nothing to do with your punk ass getting kicked out of your own body!"

Before either of them could say anything else, the world around them began to dim. Quinn looked around, trying to find whoever was messing with the spirit world's light switch. But there was nothing except fog and water, and the light continued to fade.

"The hell is happening?" She craned her head back to look at the textureless sky. "Am I...are we dying?"

"No." Belekur stepped forward and held out one hand. "Give me control."

Quinn tensed up. "What are you talking about?"

It was dark enough now that she could barely see her surroundings. Cold panic began to creep through her limbs. _I don't want to go. Not yet_.

"You will not be able to survive what is coming next," Belekur hissed, stepping closer. "And my summons here will be for naught. If they awaken the dragon…"

Quinn wasn't able to catch those last few words. "Sorry, can you repeat that?" She blinked rapidly against the total darkness. "Hello?"

She blinked again, and saw stars—real ones, not the kind that had been peppering her eyesight every time she so much as moved her arm. Speaking of her injury, the pain had come back, but only as a dull ache.

"Good, you're awake." Tauriel knelt beside her and helped her sit up. "I feared it would be too late to heal you."

Quinn looked around. They were still on the sidewalk where the orcs had attacked, and she was back in her old-new body. She leaned back and sighed, her head knocking against the wall with a low _thunk_. After everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours, she felt completely drained.

Tauriel's partner, who she could now confirm to be Legolas since he wasn't glowing anymore, walked towards them. "We should get moving. Bolg escaped, along with half of his pack. They will be heading towards the mountain."

"Please tell me you at least got the one who tried to strangle me."

"The one who attacked you was Bolg." Tauriel frowned. "Son of Azog."

"Son?" Quinn made a face. "Ugh. Do orcs fuck?"

Tauriel blanched at that, though whether that was due to her crude language or the weird thought was unclear.

"Time is wasting," Legolas said with an impatient glance towards them. Quinn didn't know much about him, other than the fact that he seemed to be the poster boy for Lord of the Rings, but he acted a lot like Thranduil. _Maybe they're related_.

Quinn pushed herself to her feet, swayed, and put a hand against the wall. "Well, I won't keep you guys any longer." She nodded at Tauriel. "Thanks for saving my life. Again."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She smiled a little, touched that the elf was concerned about her. "I'll probably find somewhere to take a nap." She stretched. "That near-death experience has me beat."

 _No. Our duty is to defeat the dragon._

Quinn blinked and looked around. "Uh, what?" When the elves glanced at her in confusion, she asked, "Did you guys not hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Well, that's great."

 _This connection will not last long. And since you chose not to cede control, I can do nothing more than advise you on your course_. Belekur's voice, which was apparently just in her head, was tense as ever.

"We cannot afford to tarry any longer." Legolas began walking down the street.

"Please at least try and keep out of trouble," Tauriel said, then turned to follow him.

That left Quinn standing alone in the middle of the street. But she didn't have long before Belekur's voice was saying, _The elf is right—there is no time to waste. We must make haste for the mountain._

She sighed and slumped against the wall. "Do we, though? The dwarves aren't set to fight the dragon until they get reinforcements. I think I can afford a couple hours of shut-eye."

 _You say this as though you have not been sitting inebriated in an alley all day._

"I was literally dying, so shut the fuck up." Quinn began walking in a random direction, as though she'd be able to leave the voice behind. "Now I see why Thranduil hates you so much."

 _The elf king speaks from his own narrow perspective—much like you_.

Quinn growled under her breath and put both hands on the sides of her head. "You keep talking shit, and I'll drink myself to sleep again."

Already, her feet were beginning to drag. She found a pile of fishing nets and collapsed on top of it. The ropes were scratchy against her face and arms, but it was better than nothing.

"All right, here's the deal," she mumbled, chin pressed against her forearm. "I'm going to get some sleep, and not even God could stop me at this point. You leave me alone and I'll get it over with right now, or we can argue about it and I'll end up sleeping eventually anyway. You with me?"

No response. Maybe that was a sign of agreement. Or maybe their connection had faded already. Quinn decided she didn't care and closed her eyes.

What felt like fifteen minutes later, an alarm went off. It took a few moments for her sleep-fogged brain to realize Middle-earth didn't have those, but what else could that repetitive, loud noise be?

After a few more moments, she realized it was a bell tolling from somewhere in the town. She counted the strikes, wondering what time it was, but after it passed twelve, she frowned. "Do these guys go by military time, or what?"

 _That is a warning bell._

Belekur was back. Great.

Quinn pushed herself to her feet and looked around. People were coming out of their houses—some just standing and looking around, some rushing down the sidewalks.

It only took a few minutes for the town to become a flurry of activity. She started walking, listening in on conversations and trying to find out what was happening, but most people were just talking about what to bring and where to go. People rushed in random directions, carrying their children and bags of belongings. A few got into their canoes and began rowing down the canals.

"What, is this a fire drill or something?" That seemed reasonable, considering how much of the town was made of wood. She grabbed the arm of a passing woman. "What's going on?"

"The dragon," she said, sounding breathless, then tore off down the street.

"What?" Quinn staggered as someone pushed past her. The streets were getting crowded now, and given the panic that was quickly spreading through them, she doubted she would find someone who would give her a straight answer.

A swift movement overhead caught her eye, and Quinn looked up just in time to see a large, dark shape dart through the air. Her first instinct was to call it a low-flying plane, but obviously Middle-earth didn't have those.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me…"

Nearby was a stack of boxes that was just high enough to give her access to the roof of one of the buildings. Quinn pushed her way over and began scaling them. She climbed up to the ridge, glad the wood shingles made for better footing than Beorn's slippery grass roof, and stood up.

All around, lights were flickering on in windows, and panicked voices rose with them. But there was no evidence of any fire-breathing lizards. Quinn glanced over at the mountain. There was a faint orange glow emanating from the base, but that could have been any number of things. It didn't actually mean anything. The dwarves couldn't have fucked up that fast.

A movement in the corner of her eye made her turn. The dark shape from before dipped below the clouds, and Quinn could now trace its path as it tilted into a turn, displaying two huge bat-like wings against the night sky.

 _This is our chance to kill the beast. Do not waste it._

"Fuck." Her heart started pounding. "Fuck, I can't do this."

 _You must_. Belekur's no-nonsense tone had her straightening up, and despite her fear, one hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword. _There is no one else who can_.

Quinn took a deep breath. She had a weapon. The dragon had a weak spot. This was her quest, and she had to complete it.

She watched Smaug's dark form, silhouetted against the night sky, as he dipped low and made to take another dive at the town. An orange glow began to build in his chest.

 _Now or never_.

A jolt of adrenaline pushed her into action. Quinn took a running leap towards the next rooftop, and continued on like that, keeping her eye on the dragon. Once she was close enough to see the glint of Smaug's eyes, she drew her sword and held it up towards the moon.

"We'd really be fucked if it was a cloudy night, huh?"

 _You rely too much on the sword's power_.

"Shut up," Quinn said, and swung.

A crescent of light hurtled towards the dragon. She was planning on finding out how effective her lasers were against his hide. If that didn't work out, then she'd look for the weak spot.

But she didn't get to find either of those things out. Smaug swerved to the left and dodged the beam of light entirely. The force of his wings was so strong, Quinn saw a couple of roof shingles go flying.

 _Get closer, or you'll never land a hit_.

"Sure thing, Navi." Quinn started jumping rooftops again.

As she drew closer, Smaug began beating his powerful wings, and finally landed. Half a block crumbled under his weight, and he spun in place, baring his teeth. "Who now has come to challenge me?"

Quinn raised her sword, and the blade began to glow again. "I'm Belekur from Los Angeles!" Maybe if he got close enough, she could try and take out his eye. That seemed like a good start.

He prowled closer. "Ah, an ancient warrior. I've heard legends of your kind. How bravely they fought against the armies of Morgoth." He grinned wider, enough to show all seventy of his teeth. "And how easily the bones of your comrades crumbled between the fangs of my brethren."

Her legs started to shake. "Well, you're t-tripping if you think you're crunching any bones tonight."

Smaug was only a couple blocks away. Once he moved a little closer, she would attack.

 _Cease your banter and kill the beast._

"Cease your backseat dragon-slaying and let me do my thing," she muttered back.

The house across the canal crumbled under the dragon's claws. She could see the fire in his golden eyes.

"You have no hope of defeating me, Belekur of Los Angeles. You will perish, along with the rest of this _pathetic_ town."

Once he was a little closer, she would…

Quinn tried to raise her sword so she could line up her shot, but her muscles were frozen. She couldn't move, could only watch as Smaug prowled closer, a bright orange glow climbing up his chest and into his throat.

"Oh, god."

Distantly, she could hear Belekur yelling at her, but against the pounding of blood in her ears, it was only background noise. Quinn watched with wide eyes as Smaug opened his mouth and bright heat spilled forth.

Whether it was from sheer nerves or some deep-rooted instinct, she didn't know, but her legs buckled, and she slid down the roof and onto the street. A stream of fire passed close enough to ignite a burning sensation in her scalp, like a hair dryer turned on high.

She hit the wooden walkway below, right on her knees, and winced as pain shot up her legs. "Mother _fucker_." Quinn stood with a grimace and began hobbling away as fast as she could.

Belekur was yelling again, but this time it was drowned out by a booming noise she recognized as Smaug's laugh. The crackle of burning wood roared to a crescendo as his claws came down on the building next to her.

"Flee if you'd like, but there is nowhere to hide."

Quinn pushed herself into a sprint. She risked a glance behind her, but the dragon had become completely obscured behind a wall of smoke and broken wood.

Maybe that meant Smaug had lost sight of her too. She came to a T in the sidewalk and turned the corner—

Only to skid to a halt a second later as a giant winged claw came down in front of her, crushing the sidewalk. Quinn backpedaled for a few steps, then turned around to run the other way. But a second claw had blocked her path, too.

Smaug's giant, leering head appeared through the smoke. She tried backing away from that, but her fourth path was blocked by a solid wall.

She was trapped.

"A shame that this battle has been so brief," the dragon rumbled. "But I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Quinn's mind was blank with terror, her body completely frozen. She probably would have died then and there if Belekur's voice hadn't broken through the haze:

 _STRIKE!_

Her sword was still in her hand, probably glued to her palm with how much she was sweating. The weight of it gave her some measure of clarity, and she realized what she was meant to do was literally right in front of her.

Before she could start second-guessing herself, Quinn ran forward and jumped up onto Smaug's snout. She reversed her grip on the sword, raised it towards the smoke-obscured sky, and stabbed downwards.

The blade went about an inch deep before getting stuck in his thick hide.

Quinn wiggled the blade to see if she could push it in, but nothing happened. "Shit."

She could feel the vibration of Smaug's voice in her feet as he said, "Pathetic."

And then he flicked his head to the side, tossing her in the air.

The sky, some fire, the buildings, the lake, the sky, and more fire flashed through her vision in rapid succession. Her shoulder exploded in pain as she smashed into a roof, then rolled off and fell to the sidewalk below.

"I _just_ got that arm fixed," she groaned, rolling over to put her weight off her throbbing limb.

The noise of crumbling buildings alerted her to Smaug's approach. "Did you really think you could defeat me?" he snarled, appearing at the end of the alley where she was lying.

Quinn sat up with a grimace and tried to raise her sword, but realized it wasn't in her hand anymore. She'd dropped it after she'd fallen, and it was lying a few feet away.

 _Get up_ , Belekur demanded.

She didn't really see the point. This fight hadn't really been going in her favor, and she had a feeling it was drawing to a close.

"All out of tricks now, are we?" Smaug sneered and arched his neck so that he loomed over her. "You mortals are all the same. All of you will _die_."

"Yeah. That's, like, the definition of mortal." A tiny portion of her fear faded. This dragon wasn't as slick as he thought he was. And if she was going down, it was going to be with a weapon in her hand.

She pushed herself up and lunged for her sword as the telltale hiss of fire began building in Smaug's throat. He arched his neck, reptilian eyes gleaming as orange light illuminated his fangs.

Quinn raised her sword, heart pounding, and lined up her shot.

The dragon's head jerked to the side as an arrow embedded itself in the center of his eye.

Smaug howled, fire sputtering from his jaws as he thrashed his head about. Quinn took several steps back as one of his claws came dangerously close to crushing her, then turned tail and ran.

 _What are you doing? This is your chance to finish the beast!_

"Fuck that," Quinn said, and jumped into the lake as the alley behind her was filled with fire.

She stayed underwater as long as her lungs would allow while muffled screams and the sound of crumbling wood came from above. When she couldn't hold her breath any longer, she surfaced with a gasp and looked around. Smaug was still raging somewhere in the town, but for now he seemed to have lost track of her.

With trembling limbs, she swam over to the sidewalk and pulled herself up. People were still running through the streets, and she stumbled back as a few pushed her out of the way. She'd almost _died_. It would have been Death Number Two on her record, but that didn't make it any less scary.

She was shaken from her daze as she spotted a familiar face. A few blocks down, Bard was wading through a crowd of fleeing people, his longbow in hand.

"Bard!" She pushed her way over to him. "I owe you a drink, man. You were so right about the dragon thing."

He looked her up and down with a furrowed brow, then said, "I know how to kill it." He indicated an arrow with black fletching from where it rested in his quiver. "But I'll need to line up my shot. Can you keep the dragon occupied until then?"

Her eyes widened. "Y-You want me to…" She had _just_ gotten the damn thing off her trail.

Bard grimaced. "I would not ask this of you if I knew another way. But the guards have all fled. No one else will help me."

Quinn swallowed hard and straightened. "I—"

 _Do not leave the the killing of the dragon in the hands of this bargeman. This is our task. No other can be trusted with it._

But that wasn't the point. If this was her quest, then she'd do what she could to help defeat the dragon. And knowing that Bard had her back would make it a hell of a lot easier.

"Okay, let's do this thing."

Bard nodded at her, and they ran in Smaug's general direction, dodging fleeing townspeople and flying debris from the dragon's rage.

"Keep him as still as possible," he said as they drew closer. "And keep his left side exposed, if you can."

Quinn nodded, trying to tune out Belekur's protests. "No worries. I'll just tell him I'm here to take his photo and ask him to pose."

"What?"

"Nothing!" They split up, with Quinn running towards the head and Bard towards the left wing.

 _You're making a mistake._

"You know, at this point, I can barely even hear you."

That wasn't a total lie—Smaug's screams were nearly deafening as she got closer. Quinn was forced to duck as a stream of flame passed overhead. Once she'd come into hearing range of the dragon, she shouted, "HEY!" and braced herself for the impact of one clawed wing or another burst of fire.

The dragon's head snapped towards her, meter-long teeth bared into a furious snarl. The eye that wasn't weeping blood glared at her.

" _You_." Smaug's voice was a low hiss of rage. "I can promise you this, warrior, your death will not be quick. I will kill you, and that pathetic bowman, and everyone else in this rotting excuse of a town."

She spared a glance around. Bard was nowhere to be seen, and she hoped he was finding a good angle to shoot the dragon's weak spot. She craned her neck to look at his left side, but couldn't see anything that looked like a loose scale.

"Uh, I feel like you could work on your delivery a little." Her voice was shaking, but she raised it anyway. "If you're gonna threaten me like that, m-maybe spread your wings too…"

Smaug's response was to lunge at her with snapping teeth, faster than a creature of his size should have moved, and he came so close to striking her that she could feel the gust of air that whistled between his teeth as they sank into empty space.

Quinn backpedaled as quickly as she could without tripping, her heart pounding. Where the fuck was Bard? Smaug moved his head back a little and geared up for another burst of flame. She drew her sword and swung a beam of light at his head, but didn't stick around to see if it had done anything.

She sprinted down the street, and the dragon growled and crushed a couple buildings as he crawled after her. Another whistle of air came far too close to the back of her neck as Smaug lunged again.

Quinn changed tactics and turned the corner, heart pounding, and ducked into the nearest building. She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe as noiselessly as possible despite her heaving lungs.

Smaug's voice sounded dangerously close on the other side of the flimsy wooden wall. "You cannot hide from me." He turned away from the building, and for a moment Quinn thought she was safe.

Then his tail whipped around and smashed through the first floor. Despite it being the thinnest part of his body, it still carried enough strength and mass to utterly destroy the room.

When Quinn came to, she was covered in bits of broken wood and her whole body felt like it had been run over by a semi. As the ringing in her ears subsided, she could hear Smaug's voice, ear-shatteringly loud and just above her head.

"Where are you, warrior?"

A large drop of hissing blood splashed against the wood just next to her hand, and she looked up to see the dragon tilting his head to one side, searching the wreckage with his good eye.

She bit back a curse as a wave of pain rolled through her body. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to get up and run, but she knew if she tried to dislodge the wood on top of her, he would see it and kill her.

"You cannot cower in the shadows forever," Smaug growled, his nostrils flaring as he continued to search for her. "Your people are burning. This pathetic town is in ruins. I will destroy everything you love, and you are powerless to—"

The distinct sound of an arrow piercing flesh cut off his sentence. Smaug choked once against the black arrow protruding from the side of his chest. He stumbled once, twice, and then began to fall.

Quinn realized his head was positioned right above her and cursed. She her teeth against the pain in her body and dragged herself out of the rubble. The dragon's head crashed down right where she'd been with enough force to send wood splinters flying into the air.

No sooner had the dust settled than Quinn heard the crashing footsteps of someone making their way through the rubble. Moments later, Bard appeared in her line of sight, his bow slung over one shoulder.

"Quinn! Are you all right?"

"I just got tail-whipped by a dragon. How do you think I am?" She tried to sit up and winced as pain lanced through her body.

Bard knelt down and helped her up. "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, but considering I was actually dying earlier today, I think I'm good."

He nodded but his gaze was unfocused, like he hadn't actually heard her. "We have to get out of here." Bard straightened and looked around at the burning wreckage around them. His shoulders fell and he let out a soft, jagged sigh.

Quinn winced. He'd been right about the dragon, but it had come at the cost of his whole town.

She looked around, and felt a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with the smoke clogging the air. Her home world had no shortage of fires, earthquakes, hurricanes—not to mention the bad shit that had nothing to do with nature. But she'd never seen anything like this. She'd never _been_ in anything like this.

"What do we do now?"

"Now?" He touched his longbow with one hand, almost unconsciously. "We look for survivors."

 **So how did we feel about the fight with Smaug? I had to rewrite the whole thing (which is partially why this chapter took so long). I didn't want her coming out on top exactly, so hopefully it was realistic.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a comment telling me what you thought of this chapter. And thanks to drwatsonn for reviewing.**


	19. Last Man Standing

**Chapter 19: Last Man Standing**

They found several people along the way. Some had jumped into the lake and had been spared from most of the dragon's fire. A few had intact boats and offered to take survivors to the shore. There were several houses that hadn't been hit at all—Smaug had initially strafed the town in straight lines, so there were a couple of streets with one side destroyed and the other completely intact. This was where they found most of the survivors.

But for every person they found alive, three more were dead. There were corpses floating in the water and lying on the sidewalks with tiny flames still dancing on their clothing. The smell of burning flesh poured out of the smoke-filled houses. Quinn didn't think she would ever smell anything worse, so she tried not to think about it.

 _It's not real. None of this is real_.

That was the only thing carrying her through the last night of what had been two endlessly exhausting days.

Belekur's voice had disappeared from her mind, which she took as a good sign, since she didn't need a voice in her head to tell her that she'd _majorly_ fucked up.

If she'd done something about the dragon sooner, or gone to the mountain with the Company—

If she hadn't been there at all, things might have been totally different.

The water to her right splashed, and Quinn looked down to see an elderly man bobbing in the lake next to the sidewalk.

He was shivering so hard he could barely speak. "I-Is the...th-the dragon—"

"Yeah, it's dead." Quinn forced her numb limbs into action, reaching down and grabbing his hand. "Come on up." She pulled him onto the sidewalk and made sure he could stand up by himself.

Up ahead, a couple men were throwing water onto the burning sidewalk so they'd be able to cross safely. Their group—her, Bard, and a couple dozen survivors—had nearly reached the edge of town. The water had turned the color of graphite, and she realized the sun was about to rise.

"Here!" One of the men started forward, gesturing to a group of small, intact boats docked at the end of the street. Several people followed him with murmurs of relief.

She sped up her pace to catch up to Bard. "Hey, are we going back? We didn't cover the whole town."

He turned to look at her. His face was streaked with soot and sweat, and he looked like he'd aged ten years in a few hours. Together, they turned to look back at the town. More buildings had caught fire, and the canals were beginning to fill with chunks of broken, burning wood.

"If we go back in there, I fear we may never come back out."

"Yeah. Okay." Quinn was sick of seeing dead people and ready to call it quits. "Let's go."

She followed him towards the boat, trying not to think about all the people they were probably leaving behind. Even as they neared the edge of town, there were still bodies scattered about. One was sprawled in an alley as she passed it, blackened burns covering his chest, eyes wide and unseeing—

"Oh my god." Quinn stopped dead. It was Tursten, one of the homeless men she'd spent the previous day with. "Oh my god."

Bard paused, realizing she'd stopped, and went back for her. "Quinn."

"I know him." Her own voice sounded faint and tinny to her ears. "I-I know him."

All at once, it came crashing down on her—the magnitude of what had just happened, the number of people who had just died, the bleeding scratches on her arms. She started to shake.

"Quinn. We have to keep moving."

Distantly, she registered his hand on her arm, pulling her along, and then the grim mutters of the other men. The clear expanse of water and the scent of smoke blurred in the back of her mind. The next thing she was fully aware of was sand beneath her feet. She made her way across the shifting surface like a zombie, barely aware of where she was going.

Someone was calling her name, but it didn't fully register until a firm grip on her arm made her look up.

"Quinn." Tauriel was searching her face, brows furrowed with concern. "Are you all right?"

She didn't know whether it was because her body hadn't caught up with her decision to stop walking or what, but she kept on going until she was pressed up against Tauriel, chin resting on her shoulder and arms wrapped around her back.

Tauriel stiffened in surprise, then tentatively returned the hug. After a few seconds, she drew back. "We were in the forest when the dragon attacked. By the time we reached the lake, the town was already..."

"It's all good," she said, even though it wasn't. It was just something to say. "The dragon's dead. Bard killed him."

"Who is Bard?"

"Just some guy." She looked around. Said guy was nowhere to be seen. It was then that she became fully aware that they were on the banks of the lake. The sky had lightened enough for her to clearly see her surroundings. People were all around, calling out to each other, screaming in pain, stumbling out of their boats. In the distance, Lake-town had completely disappeared behind a white cloud of smoke.

Quinn jumped and looked down as something attacked her leg. It was Tilda, who clutched at the hem of her shirt and stared up at her with wide eyes. "Have you seen my da?"

As usual, Sigrid was not far behind. As soon as she'd made sure that her sister wasn't in trouble, she fixed Quinn with the same pleading look.

"I-I left town with him. He's here somewhere." She patted Tilda on the head since she couldn't really reach her shoulder. "He's okay."

"Tauriel." Legolas had emerged from the crowd and was walking towards them. "The orcs have fled to the north. I recognized the mark on their armor—they were headed for Gundabad."

If it had been a better day, Quinn might have cracked a joke at the stupid name. But all she said was, "What the hell is that?"

Legolas barely glanced at her, keeping his gaze on Tauriel. "I ride north. Will you come with me?"

Tauriel hesitated for a second. "Should we not stay and help these people?"

"News of the death of Smaug will soon spread through the lands. Others will now look to the mountain for its wealth, its position. This is a threat we cannot leave unchecked."

"Hang on a second." Quinn detached Tilda from her shirt and took a step towards Legolas. "We have a hundred refugees who just escaped a dragon attack. Their whole fucking town burned down. Are the elves gonna do anything about that?"

Now it was Legolas's turn to hesitate. After a moment, he said, "I will send word to the king to send aid to the people of the lake. But my duty lies in tracking down the orcs."

Tauriel gave him a brisk nod. "Then we must leave at once." She turned back to Quinn. "I wish you the best of luck." A hint of humor touched her lips. "Try not to get poisoned again."

"You got it." Quinn almost-smiled and punched her lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks for saving my life." She watched the two elves walk towards the forest, then turned back towards the two girls. "Let's go find your dad, yeah?"

She led them down the shore. They passed a couple of people trying to drag a soaked package onto the banks, a group of shivering children, a man lying face down in the sand. Quinn lifted her head as she spotted a head of dark hair and a brown coat, but the man turned around and she realized it was someone else.

A crowd had formed farther down the banks, and a voice rang out: "It was Bard! He killed the dragon. I saw it with me own eyes. Shot him dead with a black arrow."

Before the second sentence was even out of the guy's mouth, Sigrid and Tilda were already tearing through the crowd, calling out to their dad. Bard's son appeared from another direction, and then the man somehow managed to pick up all three of his children at once and hold them close.

More people gathered in the crowd, murmuring their thanks and drawing slightly closer to Bard.

One voice broke out through the commotion: "What will we do now?"

Bard looked around at the good fifty or so people that had gathered around, and the crowd fell silent. But this wasn't like the incident in the Town Square where the people had been hoping for some drama. Now they looked at him like their lives depended on his answer—which they kind of did.

After a moment, he said, "Winter is almost upon us. We must look to our own, to the sick and the helpless. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded. And those who have strength left, salvage what you can."

"And what then?" someone else asked.

"We find shelter." Bard looked up and scanned the crowd. "Where is the master?"

"Halfway down the River Running with that weasel Alfrid," a woman said. "Along with all our coin, I don't doubt."

Bard nodded, anger flashing on his face, then said, "What we need right now is food. Those who are able, go to the fields and gather what you can. Then we head for Dale."

At this, the people began to break off from the crowd and get to work. Grateful for something to distract her from the gruesome memories hovering at the edge of her mind, Quinn grabbed an empty basket and started off in the general direction of where she assumed the fields were.

Other people were headed that way too—mostly women, she realized as she glanced around.

"We're lucky it's still harvestin' season," one remarked to her friend as they passed.

Quinn thought back to what Kíli had told her the day she'd found him hunting. Middle-earth didn't have any supermarkets, and she guessed there weren't any eighteen-wheelers coming in with food any time soon. These people really only relied on what they had themselves.

And, hopefully, whatever the elves would provide.

She spotted a familiar head of dark, curly hair and jogged to catch up with its owner. "Hey!" Albie turned to look at her, and she asked, "You okay?"

Albie nodded. "I wasn't hurt. I made it out with Dederic, but I haven't seen the others since. Have you?"

"Uh." She swallowed hard, feeling as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "Haven't seen Gilen. At all. But, uh..."

She studied her face, her mouth set in a flat line, and Quinn knew she didn't have to fill in the blanks. After a moment, Albie nodded and turned her head back around.

The fields were up ahead, half-hidden by a stretch of trees. The closest one was populated by rows of short green plants, though Quinn had no idea what they were.

"Do you think, uh…" Quinn didn't really want to ask, but she had to know. "I mean, since you knew him better than I did." Her throat tightened, and it was getting harder to speak. "Do you think he died because of me?"

Albie turned back towards her with a sharp movement. "What do you mean?"

"Just 'cause, uh, he said that thing. And then I said…" It was getting really hard to talk now, so Quinn resorted to incomprehensible sign language to try and get her point across.

"Tursten always said he could never see his own fate," she said quietly.

"So—" Her voice cracked. "So what if it was because I s-said...since I know you guys have actual prophecy stuff here and shit. You know?"

"You didn't kill him yourself," Albie said with a glance at her sword. "It wasn't you."

"Yeah." Quinn took a deep breath. Maybe she was overthinking this whole prophecy thing. "Well, I guess we'll know for sure if I die in five days." She glanced at the sky. "Or I guess four, now."

They'd reached the fields. Instead of responding to her comment, Albie knelt down near one of the plants and reached into the dirt. A moment later, she pulled out a potato and placed it in her sack. Quinn joined in, and they worked in silence for a while.

Now that she'd spoken about what happened back in Lake-town, it felt as though she'd scraped against a raw wound every time she thought about it. And every time she tried not to think about it, the image of all those dead bodies, of Tursten's blank eyes, would just force its way to the front of her mind again.

She moved robotically, collecting potatoes until her basket was full, then turned to head back to where everyone else was still camped out. The other women around her seemed to be in the same state, moving about with pale faces and stiff movements.

People were already starting to move when they came back. Bard was standing by the shore, his children close by, helping another man load barrels into a wagon.

"Take only what you need. We have a long march ahead."

Quinn walked over to Bard, and glanced at the barrels. "What are those for?"

"Water. We'll collect it from the river once we reach Dale," he replied. "If we have any luck, the wells will still work, but it has been a long time since anyone used them. I would not take any chances."

"So, we're going to Dale? What's that?"

"A city." Bard nodded towards the north. The people around them began to move, and they started walking as well. "Or rather, the ruins of one. It lies at the foot of the mountain, and was the first place Smaug attacked when he came. It is the only place we can find shelter now."

"What about the elves?" From what Quinn knew about refugees from her own world, it seemed like a better idea to be going in the direction of people who would actually be able to help them. "They have, like, a whole kingdom in the forest."

"It is my hope that the elves will bring us aid, but I do not know if they will welcome us into their halls. They are an aloof people, and they did not help any victims when the dragon first attacked." Bard frowned, and his jaw twitched, as though he was deciding how best to say his next words. "No, I am leading my people towards Dale because there is something we need from the mountain."

"From the…" Quinn couldn't even get the rest of her sentence out before her throat closed up and her skin went cold. The thought that had stayed in the back of her mind, that she'd thought too horrible to even fully consider, came barreling into her consciousness.

 _The Company_. Were they even still alive? If Smaug had attacked Lake-town, did that mean he had finished off the dwarves and Bilbo first? Belekur had said if the dwarves succeeded, their spirits would be released from the world. So that had to mean...

Bard reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Take heart, Quinn. They may have survived yet."

She swallowed, hard. "Yeah." But she could hear in his voice that he was just saying it for her sake. "So, what were you saying? You need something from the mountain?"

Bard nodded, that same uncertain expression passing over his face. "It will take gold to rebuild our lives. But we will only take what was promised to us—only what we need. What gold is in that mountain is cursed."

"Cursed." Quinn turned and searched his face. "Are you speaking metaphorically, or…?"

"A dragon has slumbered on that treasure for almost two hundred years," he said, his face dead serious. "No doubt there is a dark power upon it."

"The dragon cursed the gold." She nodded slowly. "Right. Of course the gold is cursed." A small, slightly hysterical laugh escaped her. It was kind of hilarious. The dragon killed everyone, no one had a home anymore, and the gold was cursed. "Totally. Erebor's probably got a spider infestation too. The clown from _It_ is probably living in the well in Dale. That is real fucking funny." She started laughing again, harder enough for her shoulders to shake, until her stomach hurt, until she realized there were tears running down her face.

Quinn didn't need to look around to know that several people were staring at her. Bard reached out but stopped, like he was afraid to touch her.

She hissed out a curse, and out of the corner of her eye saw Sigrid steering Tilda to a different part of the group. Quinn wiped her eyes and straightened up.

"Wow. I haven't cried that hard since The Walking Dead Game Season One finale." She sniffled and wiped her eyes again. "I'm good," she said in Bard's general direction. "Just want to be left alone right now."

He nodded and went to rejoin his family.

Quinn scratched some dried blood from her arm and continued walking, zombielike, towards the mountain.

 **I figured Lake-town probably has crops and don't just rely on fish since their trade has declined and who the hell would they trade with anyway?**

 **Also I'm sorry for coming back from the hiatus with a sad chapter, but I didn't really want to gloss over the effects of Smaug's attack or anything. I promise next chapter will pick up the mood (and we will see our favorite dwarves again).**

 **I should also point out that I'm switching up the timelines of the events as they happen in the movie (nothing too drastic) and cutting down the time between Smaug and the battle (cutting it down to five days, to be exact...)**

 **Thanks to drwatsonn for the review!**


	20. Rejoining the Party

**Chapter 20: Rejoining the Party**

"So you have a round, blue bird. But instead of wings, it has clouds, okay? Its name is Swablu."

The girl standing in front of Quinn grinned and raised her hands like she was holding the imaginary bird to her chest. She ran off to join her friends, who had already received their companions.

Quinn looked to the next boy in the crowd. "Hey, there. What do you—" She paused as he actually climbed onto her lap. "Okay. What kind of Pokémon do you want?"

"I want one that can fly," he said, clinging onto her sleeve to keep his balance.

She nodded slowly, thinking for a second. "I got it. You get a Charizard. It's a—wait, no. Uh...I'll give you a Staravia"

"A Staria!"

"Close enough." Quinn helped him down and watched him skip away.

As she started talking to the next little boy, she saw Bard walking into the courtyard out of the corner of her eye. Once she'd assigned a Celebi to the next kid, she looked up at him. "Hey."

"What are you doing, here?" Bard asked, his expression a mixture of concern and amusement. "Nearly all the children in the city have gathered to speak with you."

"Oh, I'm just running some kinda Pokémon Santa Claus meet 'n greet type gig."

His eyebrows slowly climbed towards his hairline. "Do you have words for that that I will understand?"

Quinn let out an awkward half-laugh. She hoped the adults wouldn't have any kind of superstition against what she was doing. "I'm giving them imaginary friends, basically. Based on stories from my home. Thought it would help distract them from all the sh—from everything that's happened."

They'd arrived in Dale the previous night. Weary and shaken, everyone had done the bare minimum to set up (thankfully the well was operational and clown-free) before falling asleep. After an actual night of rest, Quinn was feeling better, but not by much. This whole activity with the kids was as much to distract them as it was to do the same for herself.

"I see." Bard nodded, understanding clearing his brow. "Tilda was going on about some strange creature, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what she was talking about."

"Oh, I gave her a Togepi." Quinn half-smiled. "She's a good kid, they'll get along nicely."

He glanced at the crowd of children. "Well, you've freed up a good deal of people that would have been otherwise occupied. Did you take care of the children in your home?"

"Nah. But I probably would have been a teacher if I hadn't dropped out of college."

Bard tilted his head, then seemed to decide not to question what she'd said. "I'll leave you to it, then." He turned to go.

"Wait a second." Quinn waited until he turned back around, then said, "I just realized I never got the chance to thank you. If you hadn't shot Smaug when you did, he probably would have killed me." Her voice wavered a little on that last part. "So...I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing. You helped me kill the dragon when no one else would. That took a great deal of courage."

"Yeah." She tried for a smile. It still hadn't felt like enough. "Was just trying to do what I could."

Bard's expression softened. "You have a good heart, Quinn."

"Not what my cardiologist said, but thanks." She cracked a real smile at his confused expression. "I'll catch you later, man."

He bid her farewell and walked out of the courtyard. Quinn turned to the next kid waiting in the crowd, and her heart felt just a fraction lighter.

* * *

Three days had passed since Smaug's attack, and Quinn had done her best to keep busy. She played with the kids if they needed distracting, or helped with the repairs to make the ruined city slightly more livable. Most of the people had taken residence in a huge hall in the center of the city, and huddled on the floor for warmth during the night.

She often found herself checking the western horizon for any sign of the elves. Their food hadn't run out yet, but it was on its way to getting low, and they didn't have much to replace it with.

When she wasn't looking towards the west, she was staring north, towards the mountain. The tiny opening near the base where Smaug must have broken through remained dark and vacant. With each glance, the tiny bit of hope she had for the dwarves faded. A part of her wanted to go up there, to see for herself what had happened to them, but dread kept her in the city every time she started to really consider it.

A tug on the hem of her shirt broke her from her thoughts and made her look down. A little boy with flat, dark hair and chubby cheeks—Eric, if she remembered correctly—gazed back up at her. "Can we do flying again?"

She held out a hand. "You got enough for it?"

He dutifully slipped three rocks into her palm. Since becoming a sort of amusement park ride for some of the smaller kids, Quinn had devised a sort of "payment" system. Sending them to go find rocks to "pay" for their ride gave her a few minutes to catch her breath. Entertaining little kids, it seemed, was just as exhausting as fighting orcs.

Quinn made a show of counting the rocks, then slipped them into her pocket (but made a mental note to dump them out later—she'd learned her lesson after lying down on the wrong side one night). "All right, little man. Up you go!"

She bent down and hoisted him up onto her shoulders. "You holding on tight? Okay. No grabbing my eye sockets, remember?" With that, she took off down the street, holding onto the boy's legs and smiling at his bouncing giggles.

Though she was planning on taking him just around the block, they didn't get very far before Quinn was forced to a halt to avoid the tall figure just around the corner.

"Woah!" She shook the hair that Eric wasn't clutching out of her eyes, then blinked in surprise. "Gandalf?"

"Quinn." He clearly hadn't expected to see her either. "I did not expect to find you here."

"Same." She glanced up at the kid on her shoulders. "We'll finish this later, okay, buddy? I gotta talk to this guy." She let him down despite his whine of protest, and handed the rocks back. "I'll find you later." Once he'd taken off, she turned back to Gandalf. "Look who finally decided to show up."

He gave her a small nod. "I was occupied with an important matter in the south."

"Yeah, the dwarves told me all about it while they were stuck in prison." The sharpness in her tone almost surprised her. But now that the wizard was standing in front of her, it occurred to her that things might not have gone so badly if he'd been there when they'd entered the mountain. "And you showed up three days too late. The dragon's dead, and so are—" She broke off and forced herself to take a deep breath.

"It grieves me to learn of the fate of Thorin's Company," he replied at a slightly lower volume. "Would that I had been there to help them."

"Well, what was so important that you couldn't?"

"I had something to investigate to the south. It appears a great threat has risen in Dol Guldur, one that could not be left unchecked."

Legolas had said something similar, right before he'd left with Tauriel to go investigate something in the north. It seemed like there were "great threats" everywhere, and she didn't understand why making sure certain people didn't get killed fighting a dragon was any less important.

"Sauron has risen again," Gandalf said slowly, like his dramatic tone would wipe the indignation from her face.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"Sauron was a Dark Lord who waged war on the Free Peoples of Middle-earth during the Second Age." He gave her a significant look. "Belekur fought against his armies, and even one of the Nazgûl, during the War of the Last Alliance. Sauron was defeated at the end of the war, and thought to be dead. But he has merely been biding his time." He started walking, like he'd just remembered he had somewhere to be. "I must call upon the White Council to stop him before it is too late."

Quinn fell into stride next to Gandalf, letting curiosity take over her anger for the moment. "So, is Sauron an elf, or something? How has he lived this long? Also, what's a Nazgûl?"

"He is a being far more powerful than an elf. The might he wields is rivaled by few on this earth." Gandalf switched his staff to the other hand. "The Nazgûl were his most powerful servants. Once they were kings of men, but Sauron corrupted them, reduced them to little more than wraiths. They are neither living or dead, and are completely subject to his will."

"Right."

Gandalf turned to her. "And how did you come to be in this city? I was under the impression you were staying behind at Beorn's."

"I did, for a few days. But I decided to follow the Company." She swallowed hard. "I wanted to help them. Thorin still didn't want me joining, so they left me behind in Lake-town. The next day they woke up the dragon and," she spread her hands, "here we are."

He stopped walking and considered her for a moment. "It was a brave choice you made, though a foolhardy one."

Quinn held up a hand. "Don't start dragging me over this, man. I never had a shot at actually helping them. But you might have been able to make a difference." She took a deep breath. "The quest failed. The dwarves can't reclaim their homeland because they're _dead_. If they had, then I wouldn't even be here right now."

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, then told him about her meeting with Belekur and everything she had learned.

Gandalf was silent for a long time after she'd finished explaining everything. "That is an interesting development, indeed. I believe that—"

"Quinn!"

She turned in time to see Bain rushing down towards the street towards them, and put one hand on her sword. "What's up?" If someone else was attacking them, she was going to lose it.

"The mountain!" was all he said, before hurrying back up the street.

"The—what?" Quinn forgot about Gandalf and ran after him, a thousand possibilities racing through her mind. _Smaug laid eggs and now baby dragons are crawling towards the city. Smaug cohabited with giant spiders which are now crawling towards the city. Smaug mated with the giant spiders and now spider-dragon hybrids are crawling towards the city._

She followed him up the stairs and onto the north-facing wall. Bard was already there, along with a few other men. Her eyes immediately found the entrance at the base of the mountain, and she blinked at the two large fires and the haze of smoke above. Those hadn't been there the last time she'd looked.

Bard was looking at her, and once he realized she didn't know what was going on, he said, "The braziers of Erebor have been lit." Before she could tell him she didn't know what a brazier was, he added, "The dwarves must have survived."

"Holy _shit_." She blinked. "For real? Wow." An involuntary laugh burst from the back of her throat.

The dwarves had survived. They'd probably hidden from the dragon after it had woken up, which was totally cool with her. All that mattered was that they were _alive_.

"Uh." She turned back to Bard. "I'm gonna head over there. To the mountain. If that's okay with you."

He smiled slightly. "You don't need my permission. There is no master ruling over these people anymore."

"But you're basically the leader. Since you killed the dragon. And people would probably vote for you." She pointed at one of the men. "You'd vote for him, right?"

"What?"

"Bard 2020!" Quinn pumped a fist in the air and sprinted away, feeling like her feet were touching nothing but air.

* * *

Fíli was the first one to notice her. He was sitting on the steps in front of Erebor, his blond hair making him instantly recognizable. When he caught sight of her he stood still for a moment, like he wasn't sure who was approaching.

"Hey!" she raised an arm in greeting, and couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"Quinn!" They ran to each other, and she was so excited when they reached each other that she picked him up.

"Oh my god, why are you so heavy? Oof." She put him back down, her face reddening. "Sorry, that was weird."

Fíli coughed and straightened his tunic. "It's all right." He smiled up at her. "I am glad to see you alive and well. We were all worried when Smaug attacked Lake-town."

"You were worried? Dude, _I_ was worried. I thought the dragon killed all of you. I mean—" A cold knot of anxiety burst in her stomach. "Did he…"

"No. Everyone survived."

Her shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, thank god."

"The others should be in the treasure hall now. I'll take you to them." He started back towards the mountain, and gestured for her to follow.

Quinn thought she was going to fall over like one of those inflatable men in front of a car dealership. The entire Company had made it. Now that she had confirmation that everyone had survived, she felt almost light-headed with relief.

She tried not to think about the dead bodies they'd left behind in Lake-town.

From Dale, the entrance to Erebor had looked tiny compared to the bulk of the mountain. But now that she was right in front of it, she realized just how huge it was. She had to crane her neck back to see the top of the doorway, and then bend it even further to see where the smooth, carven green stone met the actual mountain.

"Wow." Quinn looked around as they passed through the doorway and into a large entrance hall. The stone was dulled with ash and the majority of the floor was covered in rubble (and splotches of what looked like melted gold). But the size of the place put most cathedrals to shame, and she was guessing this was just the anteroom. "This place is pretty big."

Fíli gave her a smug sideways glance. "Aye, you could say that."

Quinn started doing the math in her head. They were always calling Erebor a kingdom, so she was assuming it was bigger than just one city. And given the size of the mountain, they had a lot to work with. If just the entrance was that large, then speaking in terms of Olympic swimming pools, this place was...pretty fucking big.

They walked through a doorway at the back of the hall and into the next area, and Quinn's very mathematical conclusion was dashed to pieces.

Erebor was _enormous_.

There were dozens of walkways stretching over a space that was at least a couple skyscrapers in height and wide enough that she couldn't really see where it ended. Huge rectangular columns of stone were spread throughout, and she realized the little angular patterns on them were windows.

She noted with a chill that all the windows were dark, too. There were hundreds of them that she could see, and it hit her that not only was this place enormous, but that it had been home to probably thousands of dwarves. They were essentially standing in an abandoned city, a post-apocalyptic kingdom.

At least there weren't any zombies.

"So," Quinn said as she followed Fíli across one of the walkways. None of them had any handrails, which seemed like a little bit of a hazard. "This place was carved out of the mountain, right? Where did you guys put all the stone that you carved out?"

"Well, many of the great halls were built from caverns that already existed beneath the mountain, so there wasn't too much stone to deal with. Some of it went to construction of other buildings within, but most of it went to Ravenhill."

"What's Ravenhill?" All she could picture was a bunch of black birds gathered on a hilltop like a scene from The Birds.

"It is the fortress on the slopes of the mountain, north of Dale." Fíli glanced up at her. "You were staying in Dale, weren't you? Did you not see it?"

Quinn shrugged. "I guess not. I was a little busy. Place has become a refugee camp."

"Ah." He gave a slightly jerky nod. They reached the end of the walkway, and he led her down a set of stairs. "And how is it, down there? How many…?"

"I mean, I was only in Lake-town for a few days. I don't know how many people died." Her voice echoed off the stone walls, and she realized she had raised her voice. She cleared her throat. "I guess a hundred or so made it out."

"Only a hundred?"

Quinn began looking around for something cool to catch her eye and that she could hopefully use to change the subject. "Yup."

Fíli seemed to sense she didn't want to talk about it. "Well, the others will be glad to see you. We're almost there."

Glancing down, she could see a faint glow emanating from a large doorway about three flights below. "You said we're going to the treasure room, right?"

"Treasure _hall_."

"What, is it too big to be called a room?" When Fíli nodded, she rolled her eyes. "I guess you guys do everything big here. You got huge bathrooms too, probably. Bathtubs that can fit, like, twenty people."

"More than that, actually."

Quinn glanced at him. "I literally can't tell if you're being serious or not."

He finally cracked a smile, and soon their laughter was reverberating up and down the staircase. It felt good to laugh, even if it felt kind of wrong at the same time.

"I forgot that humans design their bathtubs to fit only one person," he chuckled.

"Wait, you weren't kidding about that?"

"Oi!"

Nori was standing in the doorway, looking up at them.

"Hey!" Quinn picked up her pace, taking the stairs two at a time (which actually wasn't that hard, since they were made for dwarves). She reached the bottom and walked towards him. "Good to see you, man." She decided not to try picking him up and clapped a hand on his shoulder instead.

"Good to see you, dwarf." Nori put a hand on her ass, even though she was pretty sure that wasn't the highest thing he could reach.

"Oh. Ha, I see what you did there." She looked through the doorway. "So where are the o...h my fucking god."

At first, Quinn had expected the treasure room (hall, whatever) to be a small-ish space filled with sacks or chests, and maybe a few coins spilled onto the floor in some artsy fashion. When Fíli had made a point to say it was a hall, she'd imagined a bigger room with more sacks and chests.

The actual treasure hall was like everything else in Erebor—absolutely blowing her mind. It was the banana hoard from Donkey Kong Country times a thousand (with gold instead of bananas). It was a Rhode Island-sized sea of treasure—maybe bigger.

"Uh…"

Nori and Fíli were wearing twin smug expressions. "Pretty big, eh?"

Quinn nodded slowly. "Scrooge McDuck is officially poor."

"Come on," Fíli said. "Let's go find the others."

Gold as it turned out, was about as easy to walk on as sand, if sand was heavy, thick, and super valuable. Every step turned into a slide, which made it even worse to walk uphill.

"My ankles are going to be ruined by the time we get there," Quinn grumbled, holding her arms out for balance.

"You just have to look for the right footholds," Nori said from about ten feet in front of her. He and Fíli didn't seem to be having as much trouble, and she wondered if that was some sort of dwarf power or something.

They reached the top of the gold hill, and Quinn breathed out a sigh of exasperation. This place went on _forever_. It was possible they'd spend the entire day crossing the room and still not reach the end—which she still couldn't see.

She glanced back down the way they'd come. "Have you guys tried sledding down this stuff yet?"

"We did," Fíli said. "And Kíli almost broke his neck."

Quinn laughed. "That's awesome. I mean, not the neck breaking part. I've been there, and it is _not_ fun."

A few minutes later, the voices of the others became audible. She limped to the top of the next incline and looked down. The rest of the Company was standing in a valley of sorts between two piles of gold, sifting through the treasure.

"Hey!" She stepped forward to climb down, but lost her balance and ended up sliding to the bottom. "Fuck, that hurt my ass."

"Quinn!" Kíli, who was closest, grabbed her hand and helped her up so enthusiastically she thought her arm was about to pop out of its socket. "You survived!"

"Survived? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Quinn tried to smile, but suddenly found it hard as the memory of the past few days came to the forefront of her mind.

"The poison didn't kill you then, eh?" Óin asked.

"Oh, that was—"

"You're asking about the poison?" Glóin cut in. "I want to hear about the dragon."

Just like that, the dwarves all began talking over one another—some directing questions at her, others arguing amongst themselves. Quinn looked around at them, bewildered. "Guys, it's not that big of a deal…"

It was only when a large crash sounded that they finally quieted down. They all turned to see a portion of the gold sliding down, the clinking of the coins echoing around the hall. Bilbo was stepping away from the gold-slide, hands behind his back and an all-too-innocent expression on his face.

Quinn glanced at their surroundings. "Uh, are we sure it's safe to be down here?"

Glóin waved her off. "We'll be fine. You were saying about the dragon?"

 _I guess we're going with that, then._ "Well, Smaug attacked Lake-town. Obviously. I tried fighting him a little, but—"

"And you survived?" Dwalin's eyebrows shot up. Murmurs of disbelief filtered through the group.

"Wow, thanks for having faith in me. Yeah, I survived. I only got one hit in before Smaug threw me off his head, so...it was a pretty quick thing."

"You were on the dragon's head?" Kíli asked in a horrified whisper.

"For, like, fifteen seconds."

Bifur signed something to Bofur, who then asked, "Who killed the dragon?"

"It was Bard. Shot him with a special arrow or something."

"What are you all doing?"

Everyone jumped a little at the sound of a new voice, and turned towards the sound. Thorin was standing between two piles of gold, glaring at them.

Quinn glanced around at the dwarves. They'd been digging around for something before she'd come down and distracted them, though she had no idea what they were hoping to find.

When the awkward silence stretched on for a few more seconds, she said, "How about all this gold, huh?

Thorin ignored her. "The Arkenstone must be found as soon as possible. We may have won the mountain, but we cannot afford to be distracted now." With that, he turned and went back the way he had come.

The silence persisted even after he'd left. Everyone looked a little more perturbed by Thorin's words than she would have expected. Gradually, they went back to sifting through the gold.

"So, what are we supposed to be looking for?" Quinn kicked aside a few gold coins, revealing more gold coins. "And do we actually expect to find it?"

"We're looking for the Arkenstone," Nori said. "I already explained to you what that is."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that's the thing that will…" She trailed off and began racking her brain as he raised his eyebrows. "Power...the...super dwarf...cannon?"

Several of the dwarves sighed.

"The Arkenstone is also known as the King's Jewel," Balin said. "Thorin must wield it in order to be recognized as the rightful king of Erebor. We are looking for a large, white jewel, if you would like to help us search."

"Oh, sure." This was definitely looking like a needle in a haystack situation, but she figured there were worse things she could be doing with her time than fucking around in a huge pile of gold. She looked around, and spotted a large, white jewel. "Hey, is that—"

"No. You'll know it when you see it."

 _Oh my god, this is going to take forever_. Quinn shrugged and kept looking.

After a while, she found herself working next to Óin, who asked, "How's your arm, then?"

"It's good. All healed." She glanced down at her shoulder. There was a jagged scar that was weirdly cold to the touch, but she figured it would make for a good story, if nothing else.

"I owe you an apology. I would've stayed with you the day after we arrived in Lake-town, but Bofur needed treatment for his concussion, and—"

"I was passed out in some alley and you couldn't find me," she finished for him. "It's not a big deal, seriously." There was no way she could tell him what had really happened if he felt bad about leaving her behind. "I mean, I mainly just slept for most of the day, and I guess whatever you gave me must have worked, because I felt much better by that night."

"Ah, that's good." Óin nodded with a sigh of relief.

"Honestly, at that point, I was more concerned about the orcs."

Several heads turned towards her. " _Orcs_?" Glóin echoed.

"Yeah, some orcs showed up in Lake-town. Almost caught me mid-bathroom break. Oh!" She snapped her fingers as her memory of that night cleared up. "Funny enough, they were actually looking for you guys. I think they were being led by Azog's son?"

The dwarves exchanged concerned glances at this.

"How did you escape?" Fíli asked.

Quinn crossed her arms. "Wow, you didn't even consider that I might have fought them off?"

"Well, did you?" Nori asked.

"...No. A couple of elves showed up, actually. Tauriel and Legolas. So they did most of the actual fighting."

"The orcs are still hunting our Company, then," Balin said. "This is ill news. I must inform Thorin." He excused himself with a nod to the group.

Quinn turned back to the gold, chewing on her lower lip. If the orcs decided to attack again, what was to stop them from hitting Dale in the process? The survivors there were barely holding it together, and there was no telling how many would die from another attack.

She didn't realize Bilbo had come to stand next to her until he spoke. "Quinn. Can I have a word with you?"

She turned around. Being able to walk quietly on loose coins was nothing short of a superpower. "Sure. What's up?"

He gestured to the side with his chin. "In private?"

They made their way out of the gold valley where the others were working, and Bilbo led her towards a side entrance in the hall. "I'd like to be on some solid ground for a change, if that's all right with you."

"Totally fine. I'm right there with you, man." Quinn kept her tone light, but cast a concerned glance towards him. There was a weird, forced cheerfulness in his voice. "Is everything okay?"

Bilbo said nothing as they climbed the stairs out of the hall, though they both sighed in relief upon walking on a surface that didn't try and slide out from under their feet. They were a good ways down the adjacent hall and way out of earshot of the others before he finally turned to her and said, "You need to leave."

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "The fact of it is that we all need to leave, but the others won't listen to me."

She finally got a good look at his face and realized Bilbo looked absolutely exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and the furrow between his brows spoke of a headache that had been there for a while.

"Hey, man." Quinn took him over to a stone bench and they both sat down. "It's gonna be okay. Tell me what's going on."

Bilbo sighed, looking down at his hands. "Thorin is sick."

"He is? He looked fine just now." She frowned. From the way Bilbo was acting, it seemed pretty serious. "How bad is it?"

"It's a sickness of the mind. The dwarves call it dragon sickness. I'm assuming you don't have that in your world."

The phrase sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. "I knew someone who got bit by a komodo dragon and died. But I think that was just sepsis." At Bilbo's strange look, she said, "Komodo dragons are just really big lizards, I think. Also, no, I don't know what dragon sickness is."

"It's an insatiable greed that supposedly runs through Thorin's family, but it can affect others as well. And from what I understand, it's caused by the gold." He gave her a meaningful look.

Her brow pinched. "Okay, so it's a hereditary disease that makes people...want gold?"

"You haven't been here long enough to notice, but Thorin is obsessed with finding the Arkenstone. He doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, it's all he thinks about."

"But the Arkenstone isn't gold."

"Quinn, it's not just gold. It's the treasure," he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, "all of it. All right?"

"Okay, treasure in general." She held up her hands in surrender. "I got it."

Bilbo sighed again, his shoulder sagging. "I'm sorry. I-It's been a stressful couple of days."

"It's okay." She straightened and looked around the hall. "So you think leaving the mountain would get rid of the dragon sickness?"

"I'm not sure what else to do. I-I thought things might be better if...if someone were to give him the Arkenstone, but Balin said that would only make it worse."

"Well, the odds of finding that thing are, like, a billion to one, so I don't think that's a huge concern."

Bilbo gave a jerky nod.

"Is anyone else showing symptoms?"

"Not that I know of. But they don't think we should leave, either. And I know we all worked so hard to get here, but there is something very wrong." He turned to look at her with an apologetic grimace. "You've walked into quite a mess, I'm afraid. I'm sorry we couldn't receive you in better circumstances."

"Hey, I'm just glad you guys are all alive." Quinn reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "And I don't think you need to worry about me. Gold isn't really my thing. If that hall was filled with dollar bills or Amiibos or something, then we might have something to worry about."

He gave her a weak smile. "I truly hope that is the case."

Quinn nodded, staring down the hall. "That would be a lot of Amiibos…"

"And I suppose I will just have to wait and see what happens with the others. Perhaps Gandalf will have a solution in mind, if he ever decides to rejoin us."

"Oh, I actually just saw him." She straightened. "In Dale. I'll let him know what's up when I head back."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "You're going back to Dale?"

"Yeah, eventually. I figured I should warn them about the orcs, and help out with the refugee situation. I've been helping take care of the kids."

His brows climbed even higher. "They put you in charge of the children?"

"Geez, you make it sound like I juggle knives or something to keep them entertained."

"Of course not. That would require some coordination on your part."

"Wow…" She stared at him, lips twitching, and they both burst out laughing at the same time. "Yeah, I'm definitely going back to Dale. I come here and you all just start roasting me."

"Well, we are glad to know you're alive and well. And I do hope you won't stay away for too long."

"Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it." She glanced over at him and smiled. "Your hair has gotten so long. You're starting to look like my brother."

Bilbo looked up. "Do you miss them? Your family?"

"Yeah. I really do." Quinn lowered her gaze to her hands. "I mean, it's kind of messed up that I, like, died on them. I've just been trying not to think about it."

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's okay. I still haven't really been taking this whole thing seriously. A part of me still believes that this all," she made a sweeping gesture with one hand, "isn't real. Or temporary. Or something. And I'll be able to go back home at some point." She blew out a long breath. "But that's probably not gonna happen."

Bilbo put a comforting hand on her back. "You have a lot of people here who care for you. And I know that's a poor replacement for your family, but, well, it's something, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"And don't you go dying on us, all right?" He poked her in the side. "I know that fight with the dragon didn't go as easily as you'd have us believe."

Quinn managed a smile. "Don't you worry. I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

 **I get endless entertainment from Quinn having the bare minimum knowledge of Middle-earth lore. But this also screws me up sometimes when I make her know something she shouldn't lol.** **I hope you all liked my description of Erebor. I haven't really gone into detail in earlier fics but I wanted to take a shot in describing the magnitude of the place.**

 **I'm thinking about changing the picture for this story to something with Quinn's (well actually Belekur's) faceclaim. I would photoshop something good but I'm a poor bitch. lmk if you guys like the current pic or want me to change it.**

 **The mention of Quinn's brother is actually a reference to real-life person Chris Fleming, who is an actual youtuber (and has pretty hobbity hair). I just thought it was funny that he (incidentally) has the same last name as Quinn, but I don't actually know him or anything. He's the guy who did the "company is coming!" video.**

 **Also p** **ro tip: don't google spider dragons, it will make you physically ill.**


	21. Sword Training

**Chapter 21: Sword Training**

"Put that away! You're going to cut me in half!"

"I'm not going to cut you in half! Watch this." Quinn brandished her sword. Nothing happened. "Look, I'm no sword expert, but I'm pretty sure mine only does the lasers when it's exposed to sunlight. Or moonlight."

Fíli sighed and relaxed a little. "In any case, we should start with a practice sword." He lifted the blunt sword in his hand. "Your blade would shatter this thing."

"So why don't you just use a real sword, too?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you." Fíli twirled the blade. "Too badly."

"If you say so." Quinn walked over to the weapons rack against one wall and traded her sword for a practice one.

They were in the training hall, a wide, low-ceilinged room with racks of weapons—swords, axes, maces—off to one side. Fíli had offered to teach her some basics in case she ever ran into more orcs.

"Okay." She turned back to Fíli and raised her sword in a Jedi pose. "I'm ready."

He made a face. "Who taught you that stance? You're leaving yourself wide open." Before she could even blink, he darted forward and jabbed her in the ribs with the tip of his weapon.

"Ouch!" She jumped back. "How do you even move that fast? You weigh, like, six hundred pounds."

"And most of it's muscle," he replied, looking way too smug.

"Fine. What's the correct pose to have when I'm swordfighting?" She lowered herself into a crouch and held up her sword. "Like this? I can come from below real fast."

Fíli's mustache twitched. "Focus, Quinn. Stand with your feet spread apart— _not_ that far. Keep your sword up, ready to parry."

She stopped sliding into a split and followed his instructions. "Got it. So now what? You're gonna attack me?"

"Right," he said, and lunged.

They trained for about a half hour. Quinn could see why the dwarves preferred this method—she was better at learning by trying things out, anyway, and Fíli gave her room to experiment while they sparred. He did not, however, completely refrain from hitting her, so she had several bruises by the time they were done.

"All right," Fíli said when he finally lowered his sword. "I think that's enough for today."

Chest heaving, Quinn collapsed to the floor and feigned coughing up blood. "Then...just...end...it…"

He walked over and held out a hand. "You did well, for what I'm assuming is your first time."

"Doesn't feel like it." She accepted his hand and stood up with a grimace.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Kíli said from the doorway. "You'll probably be battle-ready within the next fifty years or so."

Quinn glanced at him, then went to retrieve her actual sword. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that sword-fighting is _not_ a strength of yours," he said, walking into the room. He turned to his brother. "It's your turn on watch, by the way."

"Already?" Fíli placed his practice weapon back on the rack and made for the door. "I'm off, then. Don't want to keep Óin waiting."

After another two tries, Quinn finally managed to slide her sword back into her sheath. "Well, I never was good at fencing in Wii Sports anyway. Maybe you could teach me how to use a bow."

Kíli smiled. "I'd be glad to. Come on, let's go find some food."

They set off down the hall together. Now that Erebor had been occupied for a while, it was looking a little less abandoned. Huge braziers had been lighted at intervals around the general area where they spent their time, and helped make the place feel a little more homey.

"Quinn, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"You said earlier that a couple of elves appeared in Lake-town and helped you fight off the orcs. One of them was Tauriel, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did she...say anything about me?"

"No. I mean, she just helped me fight the orcs, but then she had to run. So we didn't really talk. Oh, and I saw her after Smaug attacked, but she had to run off then, too."

Kíli nodded slowly. "I see."

Quinn turned to look at him. "Wait, do you have a thing for her?"

"I-I don't know what you mean."

A smirk started to grow on her lips. "I think you do. How do you guys say it in medieval speak...do you _fancy_ her?"

His ears turned red. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean, I don't blame you. She's super hot."

"Hot?" Kíli turned to her, sharply. "Do you—I mean—"

"Yeah, but probably not in the same way as you." Quinn shrugged, hoping it wasn't going to be a problem. "I mean, we could always make it a party of three, if you're picking up what I'm putting down."

"What?" He looked genuinely confused now.

"Never mind." Quinn stretched her arms above her head, then rolled her shoulders. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow—apparently even ancient warriors had their limits. "So, what are you planning on doing once we get Erebor up and running?"

"Well, I suppose once Thorin is crowned king, I'll be a prince. And there are various duties that come with that."

"You know, I totally forgot about that," Quinn said. "That's pretty cool, though."

"I suppose."

She gave him a sympathetic grimace. "Not your dream job?"

Kíli shook his head. "I'm just glad I'm not next in line to be king. It's Fíli that gets most of the pressure, really."

"So, if Thorin needs the Arkenstone to become king, I guess you guys needs it too to become princes."

"It's not so much that he needs it to _become_ king. It's more necessary for the other dwarf lords to recognize him as such. And yes, that would apply to us as well."

"He needs a stone even though he's the son of a king? That's kind of dumb." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she mentally facepalmed. "I'm sorry. That was disrespectful."

"It's fine." Kíli shrugged. "I don't fully understand it either, honestly." He stopped and fell silent for a moment, glancing up at a blocky staircase that spiraled up and out of sight. "There are so many things about Erebor—traditions, legends, beliefs—that I haven't experienced yet. I've never been here before, but I feel as if I already know the place. It's home, but...not, at the same time."

"Wow," Quinn said after a few moments of silence. "That was deep."

He reached up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, this place has been making me more introspective lately. I don't know what to make of it, really."

"I think this was a good talk," she said as they started walking again. "Do you wanna play Would You Rather again?"

He grinned. "Aye, I'd like that."

They went back and forth for a few rounds while they walked the rest of the way to the room where all the food was kept. They reached the doorway just in time to see Dwalin, Dori, Bifur, Glóin, and Bombur walking out.

"Not that way," Bombur said. "Thorin needs us all at the front gate."

"What? Why?" Quinn asked.

"An army of elves has occupied Dale," Dwalin said, scowling more than usual.

"Elves?" Kíli asked, then pointedly ignored Quinn when she raised her eyebrows at him.

"We need to start setting up defenses," Glóin added as they began walking out of the room. He nodded to the two of them. "We could use a couple extra pairs of hands for when we build the wall."

Quinn blinked. "Hold on, we're doing what now?"

Kíli gave her a weird look as they started walking with the others. "The front gate is the only way into Erebor—well, the only _known_ way. Since Smaug broke it down, we'll have to rebuild it in case the elves attack."

"Yeah, that makes sense," she half-mumbled. "I don't have anything against walls…"

Quinn was surprised to see that the sun was setting when they reached the front gate. She hadn't realized how easy it was to lose track of time inside a mountain. The rest of the Company was already there, piling huge slabs of rubble onto the entrance. Bilbo was standing off to the side, looking a little bored.

"Maybe you could put some smaller stones into the gaps," she said, walking over to him.

"They don't leave gaps," he said, crossing his arms.

She glanced over to the wall-in-progress and realized he was right. It was actually a little weird how well the stones fit together. Maybe this was another dwarf talent.

"You could be our moral support, then." She turned back to Bilbo. "Tell everyone how great of a job they're doing."

"I'm sure everyone would appreciate that." He rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to keep an eye on Thorin right now. He's been on edge ever since he found out about the elves."

Said dwarf was standing on top of the makeshift wall, looking out towards Dale. Even from across the room, Quinn could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Yeah, I think I'll steer clear for now. I'm gonna go see how much stone I can deadlift in this body. I'll catch you later." She patted him on the shoulder and went to go help the others.

They were still working a few hours past sunset. Quinn was pretty impressed how fast things were moving, considering they only had thirteen workers and no construction equipment, but it wasn't easy work, either.

"Oof." Quinn let out a big breath as she helped Dwalin pick up a slab of rubble and move it onto a wheelbarrow they'd been using to move pieces to the wall. "Lift with your legs, not your back."

"Are you telling that to me, or yourself?" Dwalin asked, then pushed the wheelbarrow away without waiting for an answer.

Quinn sighed and leaned against the wall, shaking out her arms. The whole elf army thing had been weighing on her mind for the past few hours. Was Thranduil really that mad that they'd escaped his dungeons? Did he still have a death grudge against her (or rather, Belekur)?

She hoped Bard and everyone else were okay.

Nori sidled up to her, shaking her from her thoughts. "You look like you want to leave."

"Yeah, I'm kind of over this."

He cocked a brow at her. "Well?"

"Right now?"

"The others should be able to finish it on their own. And if Dori criticizes my stone placement one more time, I just might tear my beard out. Or his."

Quinn cracked a slight smile. "Okay. Let's get out of here."

They left the room, and made it halfway down the hall before a voice made them freeze: "Where are you two going?"

Fíli was walking towards them, looking equal parts suspicious and curious.

She exchanged a glance with Nori, and a silent agreement passed between them. _Screw it_.

Quinn turned back to Fíli. "Why don't you follow us and find out?"

* * *

"Man, I could really smoke right now."

"I've got some leftover pipeweed in my bag," Nori said. "I could go get it right now. Move your legs."

"I don't want _pipe_ weed," Quinn said. "And I think you're gonna have to give my legs another few minutes."

"I could go for a pipe right now," Fíli said. He turned to Nori. "Also, I liked that thing you did with your tongue."

"Thanks. Most people do," Nori replied.

Quinn yawned. "You guys got any big plans after this is all over?"

"Well, it's not going to be truly over for a while," Fíli said. "There's reconstruction, reestablishing trade, settling migrants from the Blue Mountains…"

She smiled to herself. Out of the two brothers, at least one of them had the whole 'prince' thing covered. "What about you, Nori?"

"I think I might try and make an honest living once I get my share of the treasure. Become a merchant or something."

"That's a noble thought," Fíli said. "So what are you actually planning on doing?"

Quinn snorted, while Nori just shrugged and said, "Haven't decided yet."

"Quinn?"

"What?"

"Do you have plans?"

"Uh...I haven't decided either, actually." She turned to Nori. "Maybe we could become drug dealers."

But the question made her uneasy as she remembered what Belekur had said. After the quest was finished, they were supposed to leave Middle-earth. She wasn't sure what the exact terms of that were, but there was the possibility that she'd just disappear at any random moment.

If the dragon was dead and Erebor was reclaimed, what was keeping that from happening?

"Quinn, are you all right?" Fíli asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She shook off her melancholy. This was a stupid time to be bummed out anyway. "I was just thinking...can we call this round two of sword fighting practice?"

"...All right, I should go."

They all rearranged their limbs so Fíli could get out of the bed.

"So that's what those bruises are from," Nori said, propping himself up on an elbow. "I thought you were having fun without me."

"Jesus, what kind of freak do you think I am?"

"So you didn't enjoy it?" Fíli asked, bending down to collect his clothing.

"Those are my pants, not yours. And yeah, getting beat up with a wooden sword isn't really a turn on for me. But we should definitely do this again sometime."

"We'll see." He finished dressing and left the room.

Quinn rolled over. "I know this is your room, but I'm gonna crash here, if that's okay with you."

"Of course." He lay back down. "Though you never struck me as the type to spend the night."

"Well, I seriously doubt I could make it to the door, or I would actually go. Same thing happened with Beorn, actually."

If Nori had been drinking something, he probably would have spat it out. "You slept with—"

"Yeah, in his human form."

"Why would you feel the need to clarify that?"

"I don't know!" Quinn threw a pillow over her burning face. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Don't let yourself suffocate," Nori said, then rolled over.

* * *

After a few minutes, Quinn realized she wasn't actually asleep. She was somewhere else, lying in an inch or so of water, and standing above her was a familiar face.

"Not you again." She stood up and backed up to put some space between herself and Belekur. "Also, do we have to always meet like this? I couldn't be walking out of an elevator, or something?" She turned and wrung the water out of the back of her t-shirt.

"We don't have long," Belekur said. Fortunately they seemed a little less snappish than the last time they'd met. "I've managed to connect our minds for now, but it won't last."

"Right, well, give me the Twitter version, then. What do you want?" Now that she was confident she wouldn't be getting strangled again, Quinn was more concerned with when she'd be able to get some actual sleep.

Belekur started pacing. "I have not yet been called away from this world, which means my purpose is not complete. I was not called here to help the dwarves reclaim their homeland, as the wizard thought."

Quinn nodded slowly. That was reassuring, oddly enough. "So, what do you think your true purpose is?"

"War is coming to these lands. The elves will march upon the mountain soon, and the dwarves stand no chance of winning against them."

"So we defend the mountain," she said, unable to stop a shiver that ran down her spine at the thought of thousands of elves marching towards the gates of Erebor.

Belekur shook their head. "The dwarves have no hope of surviving an attack from the elves. It is what comes next that is the real threat. With the mountain free of dragons or dwarves, the orcs will move in and try to take it."

"Okay, you just lost me. Legolas and Tauriel already killed like, half the orcs. Why would they be a threat?"

"If what the wizard says is true, Sauron has risen once again, and he is doubtless gathering an army as well. Your elf friends have killed only a fraction of those that will attack once the elves have finished with the dwarves. That army is the true threat to Middle-earth."

Quinn sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Putting aside the fact that you are assuming all my friends are going to die, how is this an ancient warrior problem? The elves would just be able to take care of it, right?"

"The threat of the orcs must be such that the elves will require my help. This is why you must stand with their army against Erebor. To side with the dwarves would be a mistake, and you've made enough of those already," Belekur said, punctuating the statement with a glare.

She let out a sigh and glanced away. "Well, I think that's enough shitty advice for one night. You seriously think I'm gonna betray my friends because they have no shot at winning?"

"There is more at stake here than the lives of thirteen dwarves!"

"And a hobbit." Quinn looked around at the gray mist surrounding them. "God, is there any way to leave this place? Exit chat room? Because I'm really just about to leave you on read."

"Your love for the dwarves and the halfling will condemn the others of this land."

"Alexa, end conversation."

There was no fading light as there had been before—Quinn simply woke up. She pushed the pillow off her face and took a deep breath. "Holy shit, that worked?"

Next to her, Nori grunted and rolled over.

Quinn sat up and sighed. She was really hoping that dream-visit had been a one-time thing. She didn't need a mean, annoying conscience bent on telling her how _not_ to be a good friend. Her stint as an "ancient warrior" was over, and she wasn't even going to try to pretend the fate of this world was on her.

It wasn't her choice. It _couldn't_ be her choice. That wouldn't be fair to anyone.

She got out of the bed and started throwing on her clothes. Screw the Ask Belekur column. If there was a way out of this, it was going to be her way.

 **Can those of you who have read my other fics tell I have a thing for training scenes...**

 **And I know this isn't often the characterization people usually do, but I think we could all use a little more cocky Fili in our lives, hm? Speaking of...** **I hope I'm not pushing the envelope with the T-rating here. There were a couple lines I had to take out just to be on the safe side.**

 **I'm putting a good amount of foreshadowing for a Thing that's gonna happen later, some of it more subtle than others. Any ideas?**

 **Also, check out the poll in my bio, as it pertains to this story!**


	22. Fog of War

**Chapter 22: Fog of War**

"Do you think they ever get bored?" Quinn squinted across the plains between Erebor and Dale. The city was a lot shinier than the last time she'd looked at it—all along the tiered streets of the city were rows of elves in gold armor. She'd been sitting on the new wall for a good fifteen minutes, and not one of them had moved.

Next to her, Glóin shrugged. "Eh, what do you think they'd be doing all day otherwise? When they're not looking down their noses at the rest of the Free Folk, they're standing around with sticks up their arses."

Quinn snorted. "Reminds me of the guards at Buckingham Palace back in my world. They'd have to stand there with these weird hats and not move at all for hours. People would go up and mess with them or take photos, and they couldn't do anything."

"Ha! I'd like to try that with an elf. See if they can keep a straight face when I'm pissing on their boots."

At that, Quinn laughed. "Oh, man. I'm gonna miss you guys." She'd already said her farewells to everyone else (or at least the people she could find—Erebor was seriously huge), and it had taken longer than she'd expected. The sun was nearly at its midpoint in the sky.

Glóin crossed his arms and glanced up at her. "You don't have to go, you know. There's a place for you here, in Erebor."

"I know." She pulled one leg up against her chest, bracing her heel against the uneven stone of the battlements. "But I feel bad. The people in Dale aren't really on their feet yet, and I want to help them. And I've gotta…" She stopped and blew out a long breath. Somehow, she'd have to convince the elves not to attack the mountain. That was _definitely_ going to go great. "You know, I'll be back soon."

"And what makes you think those weed-eaters won't stick you full of arrows as soon as you get within a hundred yards of the place?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'll tie my underwear to a stick and wave it in surrender."

"...Is that a custom in your world?"

"Uh, maybe? Listen, I'm sure it'll be fine. I don't think they're gonna shoot me on sight. They weren't the ones who built a wall to keep people out, anyway."

Glóin sighed and shook his head. "What is it with you and walls?"

"That is...a very long story." She got off the battlements and stood up. "Speaking of, is there a way off this thing? Because I'm not trying to jump down."

"Here." He gestured over to the side. "We've a rope for that very purpose."

Quinn walked over to the rope and gave it a tug. One end was secured to a ring attached to the opposite wall. "You guys didn't think of, like, stairs or something?"

"We're trying to fortify, not invite those pointy-eared bastards in." Glóin reached up and slapped her on the back so hard she swore she felt one of her kidneys explode. "Right, then. Best of luck to you. And if you do get turned into a pincushion for elvish arrows, we'll make sure to avenge you properly."

She rubbed her lower back with a wince. One day she was going to teach him, Dwalin, and Fíli the difference between a friendly slap on the arm and one-shot kill punches. "As cool as that sounds, please do not avenge me. I'll see you soon, man."

With that, she tossed the rope over the wall and began her descent, humming the Mission Impossible theme under her breath and praying to whatever deities had dropped her in this world that she wouldn't slip and fall.

After thanking said deities for her upper body strength (she couldn't rely on her legs too much since her lower half was still sore from the previous night), she reached the bottom and began the trek to Dale.

As she neared the city, Quinn realized it was going to be a little harder getting in than she thought. Two elvish guards were standing on either side of the main gate, and as she walked up to it, they moved together, blocking her path.

"Halt," one of them said. "The city is barred from outsiders."

She glanced back and forth between the two of them. "I am...not an outsider. I live here. In the city. Can I please go in?"

"You are coming from the mountain and dressed for war. We cannot let you pass. Turn back, now." The guard put a hand on the sword at her hip.

"Hey, now." Quinn held her hands up in surrender, trying to think of a believable lie. "I'm not looking for trouble, here. I'm just trying to get back to my family. Uh, I was out looking for food, and…"

"Quinn!"

A tiny, dark-haired figure came tearing down the street, through the gate, past the elves, and latched onto her leg.

She looked down and grinned. "Hey, Eric." She bent down and picked him up, then turned to the elves with her best soccer mom look. "Now, are you going to let me and my son in, or am I going to have to ask for your manager?"

The elves exchanged slightly bewildered looks, then moved back to their original positions. Quinn held her breath until she'd made it through the gate and a good ways down the street, then let out a relieved sigh. "Kid, I owe you big time. What's your favorite kind of candy?"

"Can we play?" he asked, grabbing a fistful of her hair. "You said we could play later. You promised."

"Did I?" Quinn narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. "I don't think I did."

"You promised!"

She shifted her grip so she could look him in the eye. "You better not be gaslighting me."

In response, Eric lifted his other hand and shoved a handful of rocks at her.

"Wow, you came prepared. Alright, lemme just—no, I don't want to eat those." Quinn shifted her grip again and pocketed the rocks. She could find Bard later. "Up we go!"

If the elvish guards posted along the streets thought anything of an armored warrior running through the streets with a five-year-old perched on her shoulders, they didn't show it. In fact, they hardly moved at all. Seeing it up close was almost creepy.

On their part, the people of Dale gave the elves a wide berth, but they didn't seem particularly afraid. That, at least, seemed like a partially good sign.

Quinn stopped in the middle of a courtyard on one of the upper levels of the city and glanced up at Eric, who had been giggling nonstop since she'd started running. "You having fun yet? I hope so, because it kind of feels like you're trying to scalp me." She adjusted his grip with a grimace. "You still got a good grip, yeah?" She began to spin in place, making him squeal with joy.

After a minute or so, she stopped spinning before both of them toppled over from sheer dizziness. As her vision straightened out, she realized there were two figures standing at the edge of the courtyard—one in plain brown clothes, and the other in silvery robes and long platinum blond hair.

Bard and Thranduil. Of course.

"Hey, fellas." Quinn blinked rapidly, trying to sort out her vision. She squatted down with a wince and let a still giggling Eric off her shoulders.

Bard apparently noticed her expression, and stepped forward. "Are you injured?"

"Not...exactly." She stood back up with a grunt and made sure the kid had his balance, then let him run off. "I just got back from visiting the dwarves. I see you made a friend while I was gone." She gestured to Thranduil.

"King Thranduil and his people have brought us aid—food and supplies. But," Bard took a deep breath, "we still need gold to rebuild our lives."

Quinn looked back and forth between elf and man. "The elves don't have gold?"

"Why should we give that which could be found in abundance within the mountain?" Thranduil asked.

"Good...point." She cast a nervous glance at the elf, who was looking at her like she was a stray cat and he was a twelve-year-old psychopath that had just graduated from drowning squirrels in his backyard pool. Odds were he hadn't given up his grudge yet.

"What did the dwarves say?" Bard asked. "Will they offer us aid?"

"Oh." She blinked, shifting her gaze back to him. "Did you want me to ask about that? Because I, uh...did not do that."

Bard passed a hand over his face and muttered something under his breath. "I had hoped, since the dwarves were your companions, that you would make a case for us."

Quinn sucked in a breath through her teeth, feeling like the worst person ever. The people of Dale had been counting on her, and she hadn't even thought to ask the dwarves for help. "I-I mean, I don't even know if that's on the table right now. Thorin is sick right now, with dragon sickness, so I don't think he wants to hand over any gold…"

Thranduil cocked his eyebrow in an expression that clearly said, _Of course_.

"I'm really sorry, man," Quinn said, ignoring him. "If I had known that was what you were going for—"

Bard shook his head. "This isn't your fault. I know you mean well, Quinn."

"Then it appears we will have to move on to our original plan," Thranduil said. "The dwarves will have to fight to keep their gold."

"Or you could not do that, because fighting over money is dumb," Quinn said. "Why are you even here?"

"A portion of that treasure belongs to my people." Thranduil glanced towards the mountain. "I have come to reclaim it."

"We need this gold," Bard said. "This is not just about money, this is about the survival of my people. And we're all willing to fight for that."

Quinn crossed her arms. "Come on, there's gotta be another way. I don't think fighting is the way to go."

"Then it is a good thing you will not be leading our armies to the gates of Erebor tomorrow," Thranduil said.

" _Tomorrow_?"

Bard sucked in a sharp breath and made to leave the courtyard. "I'll talk to the dwarves myself. I will not resort to warfare just yet."

"You have until dawn," Thranduil called after him.

That left Quinn alone with her biggest fan.

He regarded her with cool detachment. "So it is true, then. You are not Belekur."

Quinn had the sudden urge to look into a nonexistent camera. "What gave it away?"

"The child." Thranduil began to leave the courtyard as well, and gestured with his chin for her to follow.

 _O-kay…_ She fell into stride next to him. "Yeah, I get the sense Belekur isn't too good with kids."

"How much do you know of them?"

"We met just last night, actually." When Thranduil turned to her with a sharp glance, she quickly added, "In a-a dream type thing. Not in person. Crazy as it sounds, we, uh, are sharing a body? Kind of? But Belekur is mainly just watching everything I do." _Everything._ Quinn thought back to the previous night and inwardly cringed.

Something that might have been amusement flickered on Thranduil's face.

"But, yeah. I can see why you hate them." They came to a stop on a small balcony overlooking the plains outside Dale. Quinn leaned backwards against the railing. "You know, Belekur actually advised that I fight on your side. Against the dwarves."

Thranduil said nothing for a moment, just gazing out in the direction of Erebor. "Did they tell you the details of what happened at Dagorlad?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

He raised his chin slightly, and Quinn could tell he was gearing up for a pretty juicy story. "Belekur marched with us on Dagorlad during the War of the Last Alliance. Our aim was to destroy Sauron's forces, and eventually their leader. But before we had reached the—"

"I'm sorry, can you back up? I still don't know what Dagorlad is." Quinn furrowed her brow. Some of the stuff he had mentioned sounded familiar from what she had heard from Tauriel and Gandalf, but she still had a pretty shaky grasp on Middle-earth history.

Thranduil took in a calming breath through his nose and said, "Dagorlad was the field of battle before the gates of Mordor."

"What's Mordo—You know what? Keep talking, and I'll just try to put things together as you go."

"We were a few days' march away from Dagorlad when Belekur abandoned our company. I learned later that they had received word that the Nazgûl were launching an attack further south."

"Right." Quinn nodded, desperately trying to remember what a Nazgûl was. Some kind of evil bird, maybe?

"I know not if the Nazgûl attacked, or if any of them were slain. But in Belekur's absence, our army was broken upon the field of battle, and most of our people—my father included—were slain by Sauron's army."

There was a tiny tremor in his voice as he spoke that last sentence. Quinn turned around, resting her elbows on the railing, and risked a sideways glance at the elf. His face was impassive as always, but she could see in his eyes that he wasn't really on that balcony at that moment. He was hundreds of miles to the north...or whichever direction Dagorlad was in.

"Ancient warriors are not heroes. They are not saviors of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth." Thranduil finally met her eyes, and his gaze was frosty with anger. "They were summoned to this world for but one purpose, and that is to kill our enemies. Belekur cares not how many of their allies die in the process."

Quinn looked back towards Erebor, frowning. That explained a lot about their conversation—siding with the elves was the only way to survive their attack against the dwarves. Survival meant an opportunity to defeat this supposed orc army, even if it meant her friends wouldn't be alive to see it.

"I can see you think of this situation differently. You would stand with your dwarf friends, even under threat of death."

A flash of white below caught her attention. Quinn looked down to see Bard astride a white horse, riding in the direction of Erebor.

"Your loyalty is admirable. But you would do well to remember—there is only one winning side in the battle to come. And I will afford no mercy to any ancient warrior that stands in my way." Thranduil gave her one last warning look, then turned to go.

Quinn kept her eyes fixed ahead as he left, watching Bard ride towards the mountain and trying to control the sudden tremor in her hands.

* * *

"I should go back. I-I should warn them. Maybe convince them to hand over the gold."

Albie put a hand on Quinn's knee, to stop her leg from its insistent bouncing. "The dwarves will fight anyway. It's not in their nature to back down from a battle."

The two of them were sitting on the front steps of some long-abandoned building. Bard had come back with the news that Thorin had refused to give any gold to them, and the city had been busy with preparations well into the night. Even now, they could hear the intermittent clash of practice weapons and low, nervous conversations between soldiers and civilians alike.

Quinn blew out a sigh and buried her face in her hands. "If I stay here, I'm letting the dwarves down. But if I go and defend Erebor… I mean, it was different fighting orcs. I don't think I could fight actual people. What if I end up across from Dederic or Gilen? What the hell am I gonna do then?"

"You don't have to fight. You don't have to choose."

"Okay, but not choosing is basically siding with the elves, since they're going to win."

"But it wouldn't have anything to do with you. You're not going to be able to stop them."

"I know." Quinn rested her elbows on her knees, her shoulders sagging. "So I guess the real question is, do I die, or…" She glanced at Albie. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe Tursten was right."

A small frown flickered on her face, but Quinn couldn't tell if it was doubt or agreement.

"Let's see. It's been…" She counted in her head. "Four days since the dragon. So my expiration date is tomorrow."

"All the more reason for you not to fight." Albie fully turned towards her. "Quinn, you don't have to accept your fate like this."

"That's what they always say. But if I stay here, I'll probably die anyway, from falling down the stairs or some stupid shit. I'd much rather die in a fight." A sudden burst of energy pushed her to her feet. "Well, that's decided. I'm going to Erebor."

Albie stood as well. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. Listen, if it comes to a battle, I will only aim to knock people out." She began walking down the street that would lead her to the gate. "And I'm not that good of a fighter anyway, so I probably won't even make it that far." Already, she was feeling better. "I'm still doing this my way, and _fuck_ Belekur."

"I—Quinn." She hurried with her shorter legs to catch up. "Listen to me." When Quinn turned to face her, she continued, "Death isn't your only option. There are people who still need you alive."

Quinn looked down at her friend and swallowed, hard. Albie's husband had drowned himself, and she'd been left all alone. She'd been left without a house or a family—and four days ago, one of her friends and her home had been burned by a dragon. She didn't deserve to lose anything else.

"All right. I-I'm gonna try, okay? If there's another way out of this, I'll find it." She reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "I'll see you later."

Albie cleared her throat and nodded.

Quinn forced herself to turn away and set off down the street, her pulse pounding in her throat. There had to be some last-ditch effort she could make to keep this fight from happening.

And if not, then she was going down fighting with the Company.

* * *

Quinn could tell before he'd even turned around that she'd caught Gandalf at a bad time.

"Hey, are you busy?" she called anyway, since she figured they were probably stressed about the same thing.

Gandalf stopped walking and half-turned toward her, robes swirling around him like an angry storm cloud. "I do hope this is important."

She reached him and stopped short. "Uh...I was going to ask about the impending war. Does that count as important?"

He relaxed a little at that. "I am on my way to speak to Thranduil regarding his poor decisions."

 _Good luck with that_. "Do you think it's really going to come to that? Elves versus dwarves?"

He turned and started walking again, prompting her to follow. "Not if Thranduil sees reason."

"Okay, well, do you think he's gonna see reason?"

It was clear she was getting on his nerves again. "I would certainly like to try, _uninterrupted_."

Quinn held her hands up. "Okay, I can take a hint. But before you go, I wanted to ask if you'd given any thought to the whole Belekur situation. Still hoping there's a way we can not be sharing the same body anymore."

Gandalf stopped again and fully turned to face her, apparently realizing if he answered the question she'd get off his back. "It is possible that there is a way. I will consult the others in my order once this current business has been resolved. But you would do well to remember—a soul cannot exist without a body. Not if it wants to retain its true form."

She nodded. "Okay, great. We can work on finding me a new body. Maybe a mannequin, or a suit of armor, or a reanimated corpse…"

He stared at her, and she swore she could feel a little spark of static electricity in the air. "You would have me perform _necromancy_?"

"...No?" _Bad idea_. Quinn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Nope. You know what? I just realized I have to go walk over there. Good luck with Thranduil, though."

She turned and began speed-walking down the street. If Gandalf decided to blast her with lightning then, at least she wouldn't have to worry about who she was supposed to try and kill tomorrow.

There had to be something she could do to diffuse the situation. Maybe she could sponsor a one-on-one thing, like a dance-off or single combat. Or the dwarves could just loan out the gold to whoever wanted it, haggle out an interest rate in a peaceful manner.

"Psst! Quinn!"

She swiveled around, looking for whoever had whispered her name. "God?"

A familiar, exasperated sigh sounded to her left. "Look down."

Quinn corrected her line of sight and saw Bilbo peeking out of an alley. "Bilbo? The hell are you doing here?"

He stepped out of the alley with a cautious glance around. "I-I need to speak to Thranduil and Bard. Do you know where they are?"

She turned back the way she'd come. Thranduil had parked himself in a big tent on one of the upper levels, and chances were Bard was up there too. "Yeah, I'll take you to them. What's going on?"

Bilbo looked up and squared his shoulders. "I think I've found a way to have both sides make peace."

 **Just wanted to point out that this is a first draft and it's been a while since I looked at previous chapters. So I'm trying my best to keep everything tied together but please let me know if there are any continuity errors!**

 **I liked writing that scene with Thranduil. In my other fics he's usually just a straight up antagonist (what can I say, I'm a dwarf stan) but it was nice to get another more vulnerable side of his personality here.**


	23. Negotiate

**Chapter 23: Negotiate**

"I love you." When Bilbo gave her a strange look, she added, "Seriously, dude. You saved me, here. You really came through with this plan. Whatever it is."

They were a few blocks away from Thranduil's tent. Most of the walk up there had been spent in tense silence, with Bilbo fiddling with something in his pocket and Quinn trying to remember the exact route to get to the tent.

He took a deep breath and pulled his hand out of his pocket. "I'm going to give the Arkenstone to Thranduil and Bard. Thorin values that stone more than anything in the treasure hoard. They'll be able to use it to bargain for whatever share of the treasure they want."

Quinn blinked rapidly, trying to sort through the information. "Wait, wait, wait, back up. You found the Arkenstone?"

"I found it the first time I entered the treasure hall, actually." His shoulders hunched slightly. "I-I was going to give it to Thorin at first, but something didn't seem right. I suppose it was a good thing I held off."

"So you give the Arkenstone to them...and then they would take it and give...but then…"

Bilbo glanced up at her. "Something wrong?"

"No, I'm just trying to work this all out in my head."

"Well, it's really just a simple trade."

"I know, cut me some slack, dude. I failed my econ class in college. Twice."

He sighed. "Don't worry about it too much, all right? This is going to work." And then, under his breath, "I hope."

As they drew closer, they could hear Bard and Gandalf arguing outside the tent.

"Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of the dwarves?"

"It will not come to that," Bard said, sounding as if he hadn't slept in two days—which he probably hadn't, given the state of Dale and its refugees. "This is a fight they cannot win."

"That won't stop them," Bilbo said, making the two of them turn. "You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said, his beard lifting as he smiled.

Quinn caught Bard's eye and pointed down at Bilbo. "This right here is our win-win scenario."

Bard frowned slightly, but nodded for them to enter the tent.

Thranduil was sitting in an ornately carved wooden chair when they came in, holding a goblet of something in his hand. The image pissed Quinn off for some reason. He glanced at the three tallest members of the group before his eyes fell to Bilbo. "If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards."

"Hobbit," Bilbo said, meeting his gaze steadily. "I am not half of anything, thank you."

Quinn opened her mouth to say something along the lines of, "Owned," but Gandalf glared her into silence.

"Well, since I can see you're very busy here," Bilbo continued with a pointed glance at Thranduil's goblet, "I'll get right to the point." He walked over to the small table in the center of the room, where a map of the surrounding area was spread out, and put down a small, cloth-wrapped package. "I came to give you this."

He unwrapped the object, and everyone's eyes widened as the Arkenstone was revealed.

"Woah." Quinn's mouth fell open. The stone was as Balin had described it—a large, white jewel—but the facets seemed to sparkle on their own, taking the light from the candles in the tent and refracting it in a thousand tiny multicolored glimmers. "I want that as my screensaver."

Bard looked over at Bilbo, while Thranduil kept staring. "How is this yours to give?"

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure."

He looked down at the stone again, brow furrowing slightly. "Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty."

Bilbo shook his head. "I'm not doing it for you. I know dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult...and suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine." He took a breath, and his shoulders fell a little. "But they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can." He locked eyes with Thranduil. "Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you're owed. There will be no need for war."

Quinn looked down at the hobbit, and then over to the two kings and the wizard, and swallowed as something hot built in the back of her throat.

"I accept your offer," Thranduil said, finally lifting his gaze. "I will bring my army to Erebor at first light tomorrow, and we will settle the terms of this trade."

Bilbo only nodded, some of the fight seeming to have left him, then turned to go. Quinn and Gandalf followed him out of the tent.

"I do hope you know what you're doing," Gandalf said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Of course I do," Bilbo said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We haven't got many other options to choose from, have we?"

"I think that was genius," Quinn said. He offered her a small, grateful smile.

Gandalf nudged an empty basket out of his path with the end of his staff. "Well, you should rest up tonight. You must leave on the morrow."

Bilbo looked up. "What?"

"Yeah, what's a morrow?" Quinn asked.

Gandalf ignored her. "You must get as far away from here as possible."

"I'm not leaving. You picked me as the fourteenth member of the Company. I can't just abandon them."

"I don't like to think what Thorin will do when he finds out what you've done."

"I'm not afraid of Thorin."

The wizard stopped and rounded on him. "Well, you should be! Don't underestimate the evil of gold—gold over which a serpent has long brooded. And do not underestimate the foul deeds that come from dragon sickness."

Bilbo stared up at him, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

Gandalf turned to Quinn. "See to it that he stays safe."

She stopped pretending she wasn't listening and nodded. "Yeah, sure thing, boss."

With that, the wizard walked off in a swirl of gray robes.

"Utterly _ridiculous_ ," Bilbo muttered, setting off in the opposite direction.

"Hey, where are you going?" Quinn fell into stride next to him.

"Back to the mountain. I'm not giving up on him yet."

"I...I don't know." She glanced up at the silhouette of the mountain, which was little more than a dark outline under the clouds obscuring the moon. "Are you sure about this? I mean, Gandalf might have a point. I don't want you getting hurt if Thorin really is…" She spread her hands and grimaced. It was more than a little disturbing to think that the dwarf had become a completely different person in the span of just a few days—and that it could happen to any one of them.

"No." Bilbo stopped with a sharp intake of breath. "No, I refuse to accept that. Thorin is...we never would have gotten this far without him. He is brave, and kind, and noble, and I can't—I can't lose him to this." His voice cracked, and he lowered his head.

"Hey." Quinn looked down, becoming acutely aware of her hands, dangling uselessly at her sides. Even when she had first met Bilbo, and he'd been totally clueless and vulnerable, she had never seen him like this. She knelt down so they were more at eye level. "Look, I'm sure we can find a way to make him better, even if we don't know how at the moment. I mean, I didn't think there was a way to make war not happen tomorrow, and then you come waltzing in here with the perfect solution. So just give it some time. Someone will come up with something."

Bilbo hastily wiped his eyes and nodded.

"Also, is it offensive for me to be kneeling down like this? I just sorta did it, but now I'm thinking…"

He let out a choked half-laugh. "I'll let it go this time. Makes it easier for me to do this." He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her neck.

 _Nailed it_. Quinn hugged him back. "You got this, Lil B."

"You're still using that?"

"Hell yeah." She pulled back and stood up. "Okay, I'll cover for you with Gandalf, tell him you took the bus to Switzerland or something. You head back to the mountain, go save your boyfriend."

"My what?"

"I'll see you later." Quinn waved with a grin and began walking back into the city. She figured she would help out with whatever miscellaneous tasks had to be done for the night, then get some rest.

 _Not today, death. Not today_.

* * *

"Jesus, Thranduil was not kidding when he said first light."

The sun was still low enough in the sky to cast long shadows across the plains between Dale and Erebor. Already, the elves were beginning to line up in front of the city in perfect formation, while the men of Dale scrambled to gather their makeshift weapons and armor.

On her part, Quinn had gotten a full six hours of rest with no ancient warriors invading her dreams, but she was still late. She ran into Bard outside the front gate, struggling to finish putting on her armor as she walked.

"You're awake," Bard said, eyebrows raising as she approached.

"Yeah," Quinn replied, hopping on one foot as she finished putting one of her greaves on. "Should've set an alarm or something. Can't believe I actually woke up this early."

"I'm sure most of the men were too anxious to sleep," Bard said, nodding to a couple of young men as they passed. One of them was carrying a basket as a shield.

"Well, it's not like they really have anything to worry about." She twisted in place to try and figure out her breastplate buckle again. "I don't see the point of even getting them out there. It's not like—god _dammit_."

Bard finally took pity on her and went over to help. "Bringing my men to stand alongside the elves was part of my agreement with Thranduil. It is a small price to pay, given all the aid he's brought to us."

"I just think the ratio is way off. He's only really bringing his army to flex on the dwarves. If this were a real peace negotiation, it would be fourteen on fourteen."

"If you feel that strongly about it, perhaps you should bring it up with the king." Bard stepped back.

"Thanks." Quinn gave one last tug to her breastplate.

"Come on." He started off towards the head of the army and gestured for her to follow. "Thranduil wants us both up front."

She frowned and went to catch up to him. "I hope you know I'm a neutral party in this whole thing. I just want to make sure the negotiation stuff goes smoothly."

Bard nodded, the crease between his brows deepening. "As do I."

Thranduil was waiting for them at the head of the army. He'd changed into a suit of silvery armor and had a pair of sleek swords strapped to his hip. But Quinn only gave them a cursory glance as her attention was drawn to his mount.

"Is that a _moose_?"

The thing was pure white, taller than her, and had antlers wider than her arm span. After a moment, Quinn noticed there were two horses there as well.

Thranduil half-turned his head towards them. "Elk," he replied, clicking the 'k.' "Mount up, the both of you. We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago."

Quinn saluted him. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Bard shook his head and walked over to the nearest horse, but she saw a small smile on his lips as he passed.

"Is Gandalf coming too?" she asked, walking over and climbing onto her own mount.

"Where the wizard is and what he chooses to do is not my concern," Thranduil said, his gaze focused on the mountain.

Quinn looked around, but didn't see a pointy gray hat anywhere. She couldn't imagine the wizard had decided to sit this one out, given how worked up he'd been the previous night.

At any rate, the army was already moving towards the mountain. As they drew closer to the front gate, Quinn shifted in her saddle to try and quell the buzzing nerves in her gut.

"One of you has the thing, right?" she asked. "The Arkenstone?"

Bard gave a stiff nod. "I do."

"Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure we didn't forget anything." She began drumming her fingers against her thigh. "Wallet, car keys, phone."

"Check your sword," Bard said. "Make sure it's free of its sheath. You don't want it getting stuck if..."

"Sure thing," she muttered, sliding her blade a few inches out, then back in.

The dwarves became visible on top of the wall as their group drew closer to the gates, their armor glinting in the light of the rising sun. Quinn scanned the wall for Bilbo, but found no sign of him. As for the others, they were high up enough that she couldn't see their faces very clearly, but their stances were tense.

She let out a long, calming breath. Hopefully this would all be resolved soon.

They were nearly at the base of the wall when the _clang_ of metal against stone made Thranduil and Bard pull their mounts to a halt. Quinn's horse dutifully stopped as well. She looked down to see an arrow bounce to the ground near the hooves of Thranduil's elk, then lifted her gaze to the wall.

In the center of the line of dwarves, Thorin was nocking another arrow in his bow. "I will put the next one between your eyes."

The others followed this up with taunts and curses in their dwarvish language.

 _Okay...off to a bad start_. Quinn looked over to Bard, who looked to Thranduil.

Thranduil had that twelve-year-old psychopath look in his eyes again. Almost lazily, he raised one hand, and the elvish army behind them nocked and aimed their arrows in unison. It would have been super impressive, if they hadn't been pointing sharp things at Quinn's friends.

"Hey." She leaned over and glared at Thranduil. "I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be _de_ -escalating things—" She stopped as Bard shook his head, then spread her hands in the universal gesture for, _What the hell?_

Thranduil, still ignoring them, made another gesture, and the elves gracefully lowered their weapons. Quinn wondered if they did Cirque du Soleil on the side.

"We've come to tell you," he said. "Payment of your debt has been offered and accepted."

The dwarves stopped ducking behind the battlements. Thorin, who hadn't even hidden to begin with, sneered down at them. "What payment? I gave you nothing. You have _nothing_."

Thranduil nodded to Bard, who withdrew the Arkenstone and held it up. "We have this."

Thorin froze, his bow dropping a few inches.

"They have the Arkenstone!" Kíli paled. "Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!"

Quinn suppressed a wince. This strategy might get them the gold they wanted, but it wasn't going to create any warm and fuzzy feelings between the dwarves and the others. She shifted a little in her saddle, hoping she didn't look too complicit in this.

"And the king may have it, with our good will," Bard said. He slipped the stone back into his coat. "But first he must honor his word."

Thorin stared at them, then muttered something to the others. Even with her slightly improved hearing, Quinn couldn't make out what he'd said. She wondered if the people in the back of the army even knew what was going on. Then she had the bizarre mental image of someone recording what was happening on top of the wall and projecting it onto the side of the mountain like they were at a concert.

"The Arkenstone is in this mountain," Thorin said, raising his voice so they could all hear him. "It is a trick."

Something happened off to the side, and all the dwarves turned to look at something she couldn't see. Thorin took a small step away from the wall and fully turned towards whatever was happening, his face growing pale. After a few exchanged words that Quinn still couldn't catch, he threw his bow to the ground.

She turned to her companions. "Can you guys hear what's—" Bard shushed her.

Finally, a voice sounded loud enough that she could understand it, and she realized it was Bilbo speaking. "You are changed, Thorin. The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin."

Thorin's reply was too low for Quinn to make out, but the next thing he said made her freeze. "Throw him from the ramparts!"

No one moved for a solid five seconds. Quinn didn't know what ramparts were, but she figured something _really_ bad was about to happen.

"Did you not hear me?" Thorin whirled around and grabbed at Fíli, who jerked away with wide eyes. He looked around at the others, who stayed frozen, though it wasn't clear whether if it was from shock or refusal. "I will do it myself."

"No!" Quinn was sliding down from the saddle before she knew what she was doing, her whole body thrumming with panicked energy. She shot a desperate glance towards Thranduil and Bard, both of whom were riveted on the events at the top of the wall. "We have to—" Her gaze turned to the rope off to the side, still dangling against the green stone, but she knew she'd never be able to reach the top in time.

"Curse you! Cursed be the wizard that forced you upon this Company!"

Quinn looked up, and felt her heart drop as she saw Bilbo's feet dangling over the edge of the wall. Thorin had him by the front of his coat, and Bilbo was clutching his forearms. Even from down there, she could see his chest heaving with panicked breaths. The other dwarves were crowded around the pair, trying to pull them both back from the edge.

"Oh my _god_." Her knees were trembling, threatening to buckle and send her into a helpless ball on the ground. She didn't know what to do. Quinn took a few trembling steps forward. If she reached the bottom of the wall in time to catch him—

Before she could move, a booming voice sounded from the middle of the army, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up as if hit by a wave of static electricity. "If you don't like my burglar, then please don't damage him. Return him to me."

A pair of elves moved aside to allow Gandalf to step in front of the army. Quinn wondered what he was trying to accomplish with a line that sounded straight out of a Customer Service handbook, but it was enough to grab Thorin's attention.

"You're not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thráin?"

Thorin glared down at the wizard for what felt like an eternity, before turning and depositing Bilbo on one side of the wall—thankfully the one that didn't involve a fifty-foot drop.

She let out a painful, relieved sigh and sagged against her horse. One hand gripped the saddle to keep her upright, and the other went to her face as her vision filled with stars.

"Quinn?" Bard's voice was low and concerned.

"Sorry." She took a deep, gulping breath to clear her head and straightened. "I was just thinking about that scene from The Amazing Spider-Man 2—"

She looked up and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Bilbo climbing down the wall. With slightly unsteady strides, she rushed over and helped him down. "Are you okay?"

Bilbo was shaking even worse than she was. He gave a jerky nod, not even meeting her eyes.

"I got you." She put a hand on his shoulder and began walking him back over to her horse.

"Are we resolved?" Bard called up to Thorin. "The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?"

Thorin had begun pacing across the wall, his movements trapped and erratic. "Why should I buy back that which is rightfully mine?"

Now that no one was trying to kill each other, Thranduil had gone back to looking bored. He turned to Bard, speaking just loud enough for Thorin to hear, "Keep the stone. Sell it. Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price."

"I will kill you! By my oath, I will kill you all!"

"That's a little extreme," Quinn muttered. She lifted Bilbo onto her horse and climbed up behind him.

"Your oath means nothing," Thranduil said, since apparently there wasn't enough drama at the moment.

"Give us your answer," Bard said with a slight glare in the elf's direction. "Will you have peace or war?"

A dark shape flitted overhead, and the biggest raven Quinn had ever seen landed on the battlements (not that she'd seen a lot of ravens, but this one probably could have picked up and carried Bilbo a considerable distance).

Thorin looked out over the army of elves. "I will have war," he said, the beginnings of a twisted triumph rising in his voice.

"Come on." Quinn tightened her grip on the reins as her horse shifted restlessly. "That was an easy question, man."

Now that her pulse had slowed a little, she registered a low rumbling, like hundreds of footsteps, coming from the east.

As the noise grew louder, they all turned to the slopes of the mountain to the right. And at the top of the ridge, silhouetted by the rising sun, appeared another army.

 **Fuck me that wall scene is always so hard to write...**

 **I had a more comedic version of the conversation between Bilbo and Quinn about Thorin already written, but of course Mr Baggins here had to go and get all emotional on me. Not that I blame him... And** **Bilbo sassing Thranduil was an unexpected but really enjoyable part to write. Lil B is always surprising me.**

 **I also want to reiterate that I am open to criticism, I'm always glad to think critically about my fics!**


	24. Dawn of the Final Day

**Chapter 24: Dawn of the Final Day**

Amidst the cheers of the dwarves atop the wall, a single rider broke away from the army and galloped down towards the elves. As he got closer, Quinn realized he wasn't riding a horse, but a giant boar.

Thranduil and Bard moved to the eastern edge of the army to meet the newcomer. Gandalf began walking in that direction as well, and Quinn nudged her horse to catch up to him.

"Hey, uh, what is going on? Who are these people?"

"Thorin must have called his cousin for reinforcements. That is Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills."

Quinn glanced back up at the wall, but the raven had flown away. "What, he sent a message by bird? Like in Harry Potter?"

Before Gandalf could respond, Dáin's voice cut through the chilly morning air.

"Good morning! How are we all?"

Quinn had no trouble hearing this dude. She could already tell he was one of those people who was always one beer away from shouting instead of talking.

"I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time." Dáin's boar came to a stop about ten feet away from Bard and Thranduil. "Would you consider... _just sodding off!_ All of you, right now!"

Gandalf finally reached the front of the crowd. "Come now, Lord Dáin."

"Gandalf the Gray." A note of grudging respect entered his voice. "Tell this rabble to leave, or I'll water the ground with their blood!"

 _Yikes_.

"There is no need for war between dwarves, men, and elves. A legion of orcs marches on the mountain. Stand your army down."

"I will not stand down before any elf. Not least this faithless woodland sprite." Dáin pointed his hammer at Thranduil. "He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then." He turned his boar around and started towards his army, yelling something in the dwarvish language.

"Dáin, wait!"

At this point, Quinn started looking for an exit. If these two armies were headass enough to fight each other, she'd let them have at it. Right now, she needed to keep Bilbo out of danger.

The dwarf army was shuffling, preparing to charge down the slope, while the elves took up a defensive position. But before either one could attack, they all stopped as a low rumbling sounded from the southeast, a couple hundred yards away.

"Let me guess," Quinn said. A migraine was beginning to form in her right temple. "Let me guess. It's another fucking army. I'll put ten bucks on it right now."

She would have paid more than ten bucks for a close-up view of what happened next. For a split second, the side of the hill began to warp, and in the next instant a giant _worm_ burst from the earth, crushing a boulder between its mandibles, before sinking back beneath the ground.

"Oh my _god_." Quinn put both hands on her head, wishing she could have recorded that. "What the fuck?"

Bilbo was clutching the saddle so hard his knuckles were white. "Gandalf, what was that?"

"A were-worm," he responded, looking way too calm. "The orcs have arrived."

Another monster shot from the ground in the same manner, and Quinn started to feel a little lightheaded. "There's _more of them?_ Why did no one tell me Middle-earth had giant worm monsters?"

A low, reverberating call sounded from the opposite direction. Quinn turned to see the source of the noise—a fortress situated on the slopes of the mountain. As she watched, a set of signal flags began to move from atop the highest tower.

"Oh, so _that's_ Ravenhill."

The rumbling continued, and moments later, orcs began to pour out of the tunnels left by the were-worms.

"That's badass," Quinn said. "I'm sorry, I know that's the enemy, but I think the orcs made the best entrance."

From the top of the hill, Dáin shouted another battle command in the dwarvish language. His army turned and began advancing towards the orcs, marching steadily even as the orcs spilled like ants from the tunnels. Quinn stood up in the saddle to try and get a better look.

"The elves," Bilbo said. "Will they not fight?"

"They're gonna have to do _something_ ," she replied. The dwarves had finished their defensive formation, but the orcs kept coming. They already outnumbered the dwarves, and if they were defeated, the elves were going to be the next target.

Thranduil sat on his elk, perfectly still as the elves watched the wave of orcs crash into dwarvish shields and spears. Gandalf had moved closer to him and was yelling something Quinn couldn't really make out—even from this distance, she hadn't expected a battle to be this _loud_.

With his eyes still on the fight, Thranduil made a single gesture with one hand. In an instant, the clash of steel was accompanied by the hiss of hundreds of arrows sliding out of their quivers. A moment later, the sky was filled with a hail of arrows, which flew over the dwarves and rained down among the orcish legions.

In unison, Quinn and Bilbo breathed out a sigh of relief.

Another low call of the horn from Ravenhill sounded (she had a feeling that was about to get old), and a faction of the orcs broke off from the main attack and headed west—towards Dale.

"Shit." Quinn tensed up. All of the fighters from Dale were out on the field, surrounded by elves and leaving the civilians defenseless.

"To the city!" Gandalf shouted, and that was all she needed to hear to spur her horse on towards Dale.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked Bilbo. "I mean, I could drop you off someplace else if—"

"Don't even finish that," he said. "I'm coming with you."

Quinn couldn't find it in herself to argue—it looked like they were going to need all the help that they could get. The steely gray tide of orcs was a minute away from reaching the city. They hadn't done anything in the way of fortifications, not even barring the doors, since they'd been expecting to go up against thirteen dwarves and not two extra fucking armies.

She glanced back at the wall, but the dwarves hadn't made a move to climb down and help. If they ever did decide to join in, they'd be well behind the lines of their allies. Dale needed her help more than them.

Her horse shot through the front gate and nearly trampled an elderly couple in the middle of the street. Quinn spotted at least five people out in the open, and wondered if the clashing weapons and war horns had been some sort of indication to just go about their day like normal.

"Hey!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "We got a Code fucking Red situation out there. I need everyone in the Great Hall, _now!_ "

Everyone in the street turned and looked at her with wide eyes. From Ravenhill, another low horn-call sounded.

"Great Hall!" She jabbed a finger in the direction of said building. "Go!"

At that, they finally began hurrying in that direction.

Bilbo turned and raised his eyebrows. "Well, I didn't know you could use a tone like that."

"Yeah, that's my 'we have thirty seconds left on the clock and none of my teammates are listening to me' voice." She glanced back through the gate. Bard and his men were still a good ways away from the city, and they were running out of time. She steered her horse towards the south, where the orcs would be approaching, and spurred it into motion again.

The tempo of hooves against the stone street was enough to get the attention of any people they passed, and Quinn was quick to shout at them to get the hell inside. They reached the south gate just as the first of the orcs were crossing the bridge to the entrance.

Quinn leapt off the horse, nearly twisting her ankle on the landing, and sprinted over to the gate. "Sorry, we're closed!" She flipped them off and slammed the doors shut. "Hey, Bilbo, can you find me something to—" She turned to find him already holding out a wooden board. "You're the best."

She barred the door and stepped back, her whole body thrumming with nervous energy. They needed to bar the other doors, get the civilians into the Great Hall, tell Bard's men where to go, make sure the orcs didn't—

The horse began to back up with a nervous whinny, and moments later, the wall next to the gate exploded.

"What the hell?" Quinn ducked away from the chunks of stone that flew towards them. "Bilbo, you okay?"

"I'm fine." He brushed a few bits of rock from his coat. "But we need to—"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a deafening roar that came from the other side of the hole in the wall. Moment later, a giant, ugly monster stepped through, pushing away a few crumbling pieces of wall with its disproportionately large hands. It swiped at the horse with one hand, barely missing the animal as it bolted.

"What the fuck is _that_?"

"A troll." Bilbo ran over and grabbed her wrist. "Quinn, we need to go."

Through the dust, more orcs were running through the wall, weapons drawn and teeth bared.

Quinn drew her sword. "We can't let them get into the city."

Bilbo copied her movement. "I think it might be a little too late for that."

She held her sword up to the light, causing the blade to glow. "I said we're _closed!_ " A beam of light shot out and struck down the first wave of orcs. But a second later, two more had already taken their place. For all the damage her shot had done to the troll, she might as well have been hitting its legs with a broom.

In the next instant, the orcs were upon them, pushing through the narrow street with snarls and sharp swords. Quinn took several steps back, panic rising in her chest. Kíli had been right. One training session wasn't enough to prepare her for something like this. If it wasn't for her sword lasers keeping the orcs at bay, she would already be dead.

To make matters worse, the troll was making its way towards her, stomping on its own allies as it advanced. Bilbo was standing next to her, his grip on his own sword tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Another guttural roar from the troll nearly made her freeze up.

She sent another beam into the crowd of orcs to buy herself some time, then aimed another shot at the troll's head. The light struck a horizontal slash across its head, from the corner of its jaw to one misshapen ear, and the troll roared, blinking rapidly and swatting the air. But after a moment, it bellowed again, seemingly even angrier, and charged. Her attack hadn't even let a mark.

"Of fucking course…"

The troll was almost upon her, rage glinting in its beady black eyes, when an arrow materialized in the center of one of said eyes. The troll howled, staggering back and clawing at the arrow, before falling and crushing half a dozen orcs.

"Quinn! Out of the way!"

She threw herself against the wall of the nearest building, turning just in time to see Bard charging through the street, trading his bow for his sword and cutting down the nearest group of orcs. Behind him, a crowd of men followed, makeshift weapons held aloft. As they rushed into the street, she lost sight of Bilbo, who had been standing against the opposite wall.

Quinn almost flinched as the orcs collided with the group of men. It was an awful sound—screams, grunts, and the clash of steel cutting through the air. But then she gathered herself, deciding to reflect on how screwed up this was afterwards, and ran to join the fray.

It was a lot more tightly packed than she would have imagined—more pushing and shoving against the opposite group with the occasional swipe of a sword or jabbing spear crossing the inch of space between the two groups. Distantly, she heard the horn of Ravenhill sounding again.

A sharp scream sounded from the middle of the crowd of orcs. A flash of white appeared through the dull gray of their crude armor as Bard's horse collapsed along with its rider.

Quinn's "Holy _shit_ ," was lost amidst the cries of the men, who pushed forward with renewed determination. A minute later, Bard was pulled from the crowd, sporting a few growing stains of blood on his coat but alive and fighting.

The man fighting next to her stabbed an orc through the face with his pitchfork, but before he could pull it out another one slashed across his stomach. He let out a strangled, choking cry, and Quinn felt something wet land on her boot. As the man crumpled to the ground, it was all she could do not to stop fighting altogether. She didn't know what she would have done instead—cry, throw up, nothing at all—only that it was necessary to keep moving.

But the only way to move was backwards. The orcs were relentless, more of them charging over the bodies of their fallen comrades, while the men were pushed back, their lines of inexperienced fighters being cut down all too quickly.

Quinn dodged a thrust from an orc, wincing as it glanced off the side of her breastplate (which was probably another major reason she wasn't dead yet). One hand shot out to brace herself against the wall, but she pulled it back immediately as the stone slid along with her weight. She fired another beam of light at the orcs and glanced up. The building to her right was barely standing, held up by a crumbling column of rock that she'd nearly toppled.

"Everyone back!" she yelled. "Retreat!" She hoped Bard didn't mind her calling the shots at the moment, but she had an idea, and needed to get it in motion before anyone else got hurt.

Fortunately, the men listened to her (though she guessed running away from the orcs was probably an instinct they'd been fighting for a while). As they turned and began to retreat down the street, she sent another laser out to try and create some space in between the two groups.

It didn't last long. The orcs surged after them, chanting guttural war cries in whatever language they had. Quinn waited until the first couple of lines of orcs had made it past the building, then fired at the broken column. The beam of light hit the stone, leaving a charred crack behind.

At first, nothing happened, and she wondered if she'd just doomed the whole group. Then the column crumbled with a cracking sound that was barely audible over the shouts of the orcs, and the whole building followed a moment later. The narrow street was filled with a thunderous rumbling as an avalanche of stone crashed into the orcs and sent up a cloud of dust.

At Bard's command, the men turned and finished off the remaining orcs on their side of the pile of rubble. And just as quickly as it had begun, the fight was over, and they were afforded a few minutes to breathe.

Bard walked over and clapped her on the shoulder, almost making her jump. "Good work."

"Yeah." Quinn couldn't say much else as a strange, foggy distance swallowed up her brain, the same that had taken over when they'd left Lake-town after Smaug's attack. She never wanted to do something like that again. The noise, the smell, and the sight of fallen men still smarting behind her eyelids were making her feel nauseous and lightheaded at the same time.

If fighting in wars was all she did, then she'd probably be as angry and cold as Belekur.

"We need to keep moving," Bard called to the remaining men. "Make sure the Great Hall is safe." The group began moving towards the center of the city.

Quinn made to follow, then stopped and winced as a sharp pain shot up her left leg. She looked down and swallowed hard upon seeing the black and red splatters all over her front. One spot in the middle of her thigh was soaked in red and dripping down her leg.

As she came down from her adrenaline high, the pain began to sharpen, and brought her back to the real word. "Oh, fuck."

Bard stopped and turned back to her. "Can you walk?"

"Let me just…" Quinn found a relatively clean section of her shirt and wiped off part of her sword with it. She held her blade up to the light and watched it take on its familiar glow. _Oh, this is going to hurt like a bitch_. Bracing herself, she held the flat end of the blade to the wound on her leg.

Nothing happened.

She stared down at it blankly. "I thought that would work."

Bard picked up an abandoned strip of fabric and held it out to her. "This'll have to do for now. Come on, we have to hurry."

"Some magic sword." Quinn tied the fabric as tightly as she could around her leg, then began limping after the others. She'd lost sight of Bilbo during the fight, and hoped he'd managed to make it out with the other men.

The bellows of orcs and trolls were audible from other parts of the city. With each inhale, she could smell smoke mixed in with the sharp, cold air. _If we get a second city-wide fire this week, I'm calling quits_.

They made it halfway to the Great Hall when a tide of gray armor burst from one of the side streets, nearly bisecting their group. Several men cried out, some getting cut down before they could even turn towards their enemy.

A growl of frustration left her throat as Quinn sent a beam of light towards the orcs. None of the buildings around them looked unstable enough to collapse, unfortunately. Before she could think of something else to crush the orcs with, Bard appeared next to her and said, "We need you at the Great Hall."

"But the orcs—"

"We'll take care of them. That sword of yours could hold off more orcs than any one of us." If Bard noticed they were outnumbered two to one, he didn't say anything about it. When she didn't move right away, he said, "Quinn, I need to know my children are safe."

"Man," Quinn started, but there was nothing she could really say. Ignoring the bitter taste of guilt on her tongue, she turned and started for the Great Hall, moving as fast as her injured leg would allow. At every intersection, she glanced down the side streets, terrified a pack of orcs would ambush her.

Fortunately, no orcs attacked, and there were no enemies laying siege to the Great Hall when she got there—except, of course, the troll heading for the doors.

 **I kept a lot of the battle stuff the same, but tweaked a little bit since, y'know, I didn't have Warner Bros breathing down my neck. I'm very very sorry for all the horse deaths in this chapter and the next. No real horses were harmed while I was writing this.**

 **Also, I think this chapter might have broken the record for the amount of curses from Quinn.**

 **This chapter and the next were originally one, but I decided to split them up because it was getting super long... Speaking of, I am excited to announce that the next chapter is titled "Game Over." I'll leave you to your conclusions about what that means...**


	25. Game Over

**Warning for a good amount of gore/blood in this chapter. Things get cut in half, it's not a fun time. Enjoy!** **Chapter 25: Game Over**

"Hey!" Quinn shouted, causing the troll to turn around.

It was bigger than the first one she had encountered, and was carrying a morning star that was longer than she was tall. One good hit from that thing, and she would be finished.

She took a limping step to the side as the troll growled and began advancing on her. If her encounter with the last one was any evidence, her laser beams wouldn't do any damage, meaning she'd have to get up close and use her sword like an actual sword.

That was all the strategizing she was able to do before she was forced to jump out of the way as the morning star slammed down on the ground, sending chips of stone flying from the impact. She landed on her injured leg and staggered, wincing as pain shot up her thigh.

"Dammit." She put her weight on her good leg and circled the troll, scanning its body for weak points. The highest she could reach with her sword was probably nipple-level (or thereabouts since the troll didn't have any), and the whole of its body was covered in tough, leathery skin.

With a growl, the troll jerked its weapon out of the ground and swung it in a wide, horizontal arc. Quinn leapt back, but the tip of one of the spikes scraped against her breastplate with enough force to throw her to the side. She pushed herself back up with a wince.

"Gotta get behind that thing." That was the only way she could start attacking without worrying about getting flattened.

Quinn dodged another downward strike and ran towards the nearest leg. She slashed as hard as she could across the calf, then spun away to survey the damage. Her sword has left a deep cut, but not a single drop of blood came from the wound. The troll grunted, but seemed more angry than in pain.

"Holy shit, what does it take for you to die?" Quinn took several steps back to regroup as the troll attacked again.

Its skin wasn't impenetrable, which was good news. She could keep attacking, and try to wear the troll down, but she wasn't certain she had the energy for that. Bard had proved the eyes were a weak point, but she had no idea how to reach them. The troll hadn't tried to charge at her yet, so she couldn't trick it into running into a wall.

There was only one thing left to try.

She ran forward, dodging another hit and positioning herself right in front of the troll. "Hey!" she shouted, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. "Come on! Show me what you got!"

The troll snarled and lifted its morning star for a downward swing. Quinn raised her sword to the light, then swung a beam towards the handle of the weapon. The metal cracked upon impact, leaving a scorched mark a few inches wide.

 _Pleaseworkpleaseworkpleasework—_

Quinn tensed up as the troll moved to complete the strike. At the apex of its swing, the handle snapped in half, the bulk of the weapon falling onto the troll's head as the other half continued downwards. She took several steps back to avoid the strike, and winced at the squelching noise of a few of the spikes entering its flesh.

With a low groan, the troll fell forward and lay still.

"Did that do it?" She inched forward, watching for any movement from the monster, then stuck her sword in its eye just to be safe.

The clatter of hooves made her look up, and a second later, Tauriel and Legolas came riding into the courtyard.

"Hey, you guys just missed it, I killed a—"

"Where is Mithrandir?" Legolas asked, pulling the horse to a stop.

" _Who?_ "

"The gray wizard, where is he?"

"Oh, you mean Gandalf?" Quinn shook her head. "Haven't seen him. Been too busy, uh, killing the trolls." She looked pointedly at the giant corpse lying next to her.

Legolas had stopped listening halfway through. He dismounted and turned to Tauriel. "I must report to my father. Find the wizard and tell him what we found." With that, he turned and sprinted off down one of the streets.

Quinn pulled her sword out of the troll's eye socket, figuring no one was going to comment on it, and looked up at Tauriel. "What's going on?"

"There is a second army approaching from the north. We need to warn our allies." She extended a hand. "Come help me find the wizard."

She shook her head and pointed to the doors of the Great Hall. "There's civilians in there. I gotta make sure they're safe."

Tauriel glanced at her leg. "You can't do it alone, not with your injury. We'll find a group to help guard it—most of the fighting is in the south of the city now."

Quinn took a deep breath. The rhythm of battle was in her veins now, totally unlike the destabilizing nausea she'd felt at first. It was probably better that she go and kill more orcs rather than sit around waiting for some to come to her. She took Tauriel's hand and mounted behind her.

"Let's head north. The last time I saw Gandalf was out on the field."

They galloped through the streets, taking out a few straggler orcs along the way. A few blocks away from the gate, Quinn spotted a group of men and motioned for Tauriel to slow down.

"Hey, you guys need something to do?" she called. "Go defend the Great Hall. Don't leave until someone relieves you." They nodded and began moving in that direction. She turned back to Tauriel. "You have any idea how we're going to find Gandalf? He's not exactly—"

A few blocks away, a bright flash of light appeared, reflecting off the pale stone of the city wall.

"Let's start there," Tauriel said, then spurred the horse into motion once more.

Sure enough, the found Gandalf fighting with his staff in one hand and his sword in the other. Quinn would have liked to watch the wizard actually fight, but he'd already finished off the group of orcs by the time they reached him.

"Gandalf!" Tauriel called, making him turn. "There is a second army on the move. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs towards Ravenhill."

"Ravenhill?" a new voice sounded from behind them.

Quinn turned, and her face split into a grin. "Bilbo, you're okay!"

He was spattered with orc blood but seemed unharmed as he walked closer to the three of them. "You said there's another army headed for Ravenhill?"

Tauriel nodded. "We barely managed to pull ahead of them to send warning. They're almost upon us."

Bilbo's face went pale. "I-I saw a group of dwarves riding up there earlier."

Quinn straightened. "Anyone we know?"

"It was Thorin, no doubt, leading his best warriors to take the fight to Azog," Gandalf said.

 _I guess he had a change of heart_. She wondered who the other three "best warriors" would be, then decided it didn't matter. "Well, someone's gotta give them a heads up."

She started to dismount, but Tauriel put a hand on her leg. "We're both going. It'll be faster on horseback."

"You rock." Quinn resettled in the saddle and turned to Bilbo, who looked like he wanted to protest. "We'll bring them back, okay? See you soon."

With that, Tauriel turned the horse and soon they were flying out the gate, down the road and towards the narrow stair that led to the fortress. As they left the city, Quinn got her first real good look at the battlefield. It was dotted with bodies and broken war machines silhouetted by small fires. The main fighting force had moved closer to the mountain, but she couldn't tell who was winning.

It was chilling, to see how such a broad swath of land had been scorched by death and flames.

Quinn tightened her grip on Tauriel's waist as the horse reached a gallop. The road to Ravenhill was taking them up the west flank of the ridge, past a set of steep cliffs and then around to the fortress itself.

With the freezing wind whistling in her ears and the hot pulse of blood in the wound on her thigh, Quinn was struck by the sudden feeling that going to Ravenhill was bigger than a simple extraction mission. She glanced up. The sun was high in the sky by now, but she couldn't help but feel like she was approaching the end of something.

They had nearly reached the fortress when Tauriel gasped, reached back, and shoved Quinn off the horse. She caught a glimpse of the elf leaping off the horse as well before she hit the ground and rolled to a stop several feet later. Their horse shrieked, but the noise was cut off by a terrible slicing sound.

With a groan, Quinn pushed her protesting body up from the ground and looked at Tauriel, who was climbing to her feet as well. "What the _hell?_ "

Then she caught sight of the giant metal spear sticking out of the road, surrounded by a growing pool of blood and the torn remains of the horse.

One hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, god." That did it. She was about to be sick.

Tauriel hurried over and grabbed her arm, pulling her over to the cliff wall. "They have a ballista on the wall. I can try and take it out, but I need you to cover me."

Quinn took several deep breaths, trying to avert her eyes from the red splotch on the road. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay."

She gripped both of her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "We need to press on. Your dwarves need us, all right? They need _you_ , Quinn Troll-Slayer."

A shaky half-laugh escaped her lips. Tauriel was right—this wasn't about her. They had to warn her friends. "Okay. L-Lead the way. I'll cover you."

They continued along the path, hugging the cliffside. Up ahead, the road met the top of the cliff and made a hairpin turn. That was where they'd be most exposed, and need to take out the ballista.

When they'd almost reached that point, Tauriel nocked an arrow in her bow and turned to Quinn. "Ready?"

"Mom's spaghetti," she said, then nodded as an actual answer.

They ran the rest of the way to the bend in the road, then turned in unison to face the ballista. The orc manning it had already reloaded and turned to face them. Tauriel took several steps to the side, trying to get a good shot on the orc. Quinn drew her sword and held it up to the light.

All the warning she got was a metallic _twang_ before the ballista fired straight at her. The crescendo of rushing air seemed to tighten every nerve in her body, and Quinn swung at the projectile with all her strength. The two collided at an angle, sending the spear spiraling out of the way and over the side of the cliff. A second later, Tauriel's arrow found its mark in the side of the orc's skull.

Shaking slightly, Quinn went to catch up to her as the elf continued into the fortress. "Hey, we make a pretty good team."

Tauriel gave her a slight smile. "Let's head for one of the higher towers, see if we can spot anything from there."

As they walked through the fortress, Quinn couldn't help but notice how quiet the place was. At the beginning of the battle, the orcs had set up their command center here, with their war horns and their big flags, but now she couldn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary.

They reached the high tower where the signals were, but the area was vacant. While Tauriel stood at the edge and looked around, Quinn walked over and slashed a beam of light towards the flags. She kicked the broken pieces of wood off the edge of the tower.

When Tauriel sent her a questioning glance, she shrugged. "Figured we might do some sabotage while we're up here."

She turned back to the rest of the fortress, which was a mix of towers, courtyards, and bridges. "I don't see anyone. Are you certain the dwarves are still here?"

Quinn frowned, moving to stand next to her. Maybe Thorin had already killed Azog and left. She turned back to the flags. But if that was the case, wouldn't he have done something to let the orcs know that their leader had been killed?

"Maybe we should split up. We'll be able to cover more ground that way."

Tauriel frowned. "You expect me to leave you alone and injured with an orc army on the way?"

She looked down at her leg. Blood had already soaked through the cloth she'd tied around it. "Look, we'll just make this quick as possible. If I need help," she gestured to her sword, "I'll signal back to you. This place isn't that big. It'll take fifteen minutes, tops."

"Ten minutes," Tauriel said. "Then we return to Dale, with or without the dwarves."

Quinn nodded. "Fine." She took the stairs down towards the southern end of the fortress, shaking her head as she went, while Tauriel headed in the opposite direction. _Like I'd actually leave without my friends._

She moved as quickly as she could through the towers, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of her head that was telling her to slow down, to prolong the time she had left before…whatever was supposed to happen at the end of this.

As she was crossing one of the bridges, a dark shape darted overhead, and her head snapped up.

"What the hell was that?"

Just as she was about to dismiss it as a trick of the light, a few more passed overhead. They were moving too fast to get a detailed look, but Quinn had seen enough Batman cartoons to recognize the general shape.

Soon, more bats filled the sky, swarming about overhead and darkening the fortress in a haze of moving shadows.

Feeling more than a little creeped out, Quinn continued on, hoping none of the bats would swoop down and get tangled in her hair. This was probably the beginning of the second army. She needed to find the dwarves quickly, and get out before—

Swift as lightning, a figure jumped out, its sword swinging towards her face.

"Woah!" Quinn froze, leaning back as the blade stopped inches from her throat. She looked to its owner and her eyes widened. "Kíli?"

He lowered his sword, chest heaving. "Quinn. I-I almost—what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, I guess. Me and Tauriel heard Thorin was up here with some others, and we came to warn you. There's an army coming from the north, and we need to get out before they get here."

Kíli looked around, as though the elf was hiding around a corner. "Tauriel? Where is she?"

"We split up to cover more ground. Where's the rest of your group?" Quinn glanced up at the bats and frowned.

He followed her gaze and took a few steps forward. "We split up as well. If what you say is true, we—"

A sharp scream pierced the air, bouncing off the towers and chasms of the fortress. Quinn turned towards the sound, her heart leaping into her throat. "Dammit, _I_ was supposed to be the one calling for help."

Kíli was already sprinting in that direction. She followed, hissing through her teeth as the pain in her leg flared up.

They found her in a courtyard not too far away. Tauriel was alive, thankfully, but one of her arms was hanging limply at her side, and a trickle of blood ran down her face. She was on one knee, gripping a long knife with her good hand and glaring at the looming figure of Bolg.

Without even breaking his stride, Kíli let out a fierce cry and ran straight into the orc, knocking him back a few steps. Quinn rushed over to Tauriel and helped her to her feet. "Are you okay?"

She nodded with a wince. "I-I'm fine."

Kíli cried out as Bolg lifted him by the front of his tunic and threw him against the wall. Tauriel let out a low growl and lunged forward, dodging his mace and slicing at his chest.

Quinn raised her sword, then frowned as the blade stayed dull. The giant bats were still circling overhead, blocking the sunlight from reaching the fortress. She slapped the blade, then held it up as if it would get a better signal. "Fuck, are you kidding me?"

"Quinn, get out of here!" Kíli pushed himself up and charged Bolg again, parrying his mace before it could hit Tauriel.

"No way. I have _major_ beef with this guy. I'm not leaving until I take out at least one ball." She adjusted her grip on her sword. _Time to do this the old fashioned way_.

Bolg swung his mace towards Kíli, who leapt back to avoid the blow. Tauriel took advantage of the opening, stabbing upwards with her knife and driving it deep into Bolg's back. A spurt of black blood followed the blade as she pulled it out, but a second later the orc's elbow connected with her face and sent her sprawling.

Quinn realized she still hadn't moved, that she was standing frozen with her sword clenched in one hand. Bolg had turned his full attention to Kíli, and was pressing him with swift, punishing blows that were slowly forcing the dwarf towards the wall.

 _Now or never_.

She charged.

"Quinn, no!"

But she'd already reached Bolg and thrust her sword into his thigh, prompting a pained grunt from the orc. She pulled her sword out, gearing up for another hit, but she wasn't fast enough to dodge as Bolg's mace slammed into her side.

The impact sent her flying across the courtyard. She hit the ground and rolled several times before coming to a stop. For a moment, all she felt was shock and a slight ringing in her ears, though she was pretty sure her head hadn't been hit.

 _Get up. They're counting on you._

She braced a hand against the cold stone and tried to sit up. Before she could make it even a few inches off the ground, she took a breath and her side exploded in pain.

Quinn lay back down with a gasp, her ribs flaring as if they were on fire. Every breath made the pain worse, but she couldn't stop—she couldn't get air.

Her senses were working just fine, though. She could hear Kíli shouting, the clash of steel, and then the _thud_ of a heavy body hitting the ground.

She grit her teeth against the pain and groaned, then tried and failed again to sit up. Something hot was building in her chest.

Tauriel limped over to kneel at her side and put a hand on her shoulder. "Quinn?"

She hissed through her teeth, trying to draw breath. "Kíli—" Was he okay?

The sharp noise of a sword hitting the ground rang through the courtyard. A moment later, Kíli was kneeling at her other side. "Quinn! Are you all right?"

She opened her mouth to tell him her chest hurt, but blood came out instead. She started to choke on it.

"Her ribs are broken," Tauriel said, her voice ragged. "One of them must have punctured her lung."

"You have to heal her," Kíli said. " _Please_."

Quinn glanced at Tauriel with rapidly blurring vision. _Babe, if you get me out of this one, that'll be two for two_.

Faintly, she registered Tauriel moving her knife along the injury and Kíli's tight grip on her hand. She squeezed back as a strange sense of security washed over her. As long as he was there, supporting her, she'd come through all right.

But she still couldn't breathe. There was blood all over her chin, and she didn't have the strength to wipe it off. She couldn't do anything but lie there and choke as the world around her began to fade.

 _I hate prophecies_ , Quinn thought, and died.

 **The end.**

 **lmao no i'm kidding. we still got some loose ends to wrap up, so stay tuned for that! please don't hurt me...**


	26. Respawn

**Chapter 26: Respawn**

When Quinn came to, she wondered why she still couldn't breathe, and why the afterlife looked so weird.

She sat up. The world around her was shrouded in shadow, leaving her radius of visibility less than five feet. What she could see was muted, just a few hues away from being totally gray. Everything was blurred in a wispy fashion, like someone was running over the edges of each object with a reality-smearing paintbrush.

 _I'm dead_.

The reality of it hit for the first time. This wasn't some weird prank or random crossover into another world. She had choked on her own blood and died.

Her mouth was still filled with the awful metallic taste. Quinn spat out a red glob, then hacked out the rest of it until her airway was cleared. She took in a deep breath, but there was no relief from it—just the neutral acknowledgement that her body was moving.

Each breath that she took was useless as the last. Her lungs were still empty, because she was dead.

Quinn dropped her head into her hands and let out a breathless sigh. She'd died in front of Kíli and Tauriel. She'd left them and the rest of her friends in the middle of the battle. She'd jumped into a fight on a stupid, impulsive whim and there was no going back to the way things were before.

"Get up."

The sharp voice startled her, and Quinn felt her body give a little jolt, but she still didn't move. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Guess that answers that. I am in hell."

"We have not left," Belekur said, finally making her look up.

They were nothing more than a ghostly apparition, their features glowing a pearlescent white and slightly transparent. Quinn looked down and was a little relieved to find that while her body mirrored theirs, her features still seemed real...whatever that meant.

"Open your eyes."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she climbed to her feet. The area around them was shrouded in shadow. All she could see was the pale stone beneath her feet, which was smeared with blood.

She looked down at her side. Her breastplate was dented where Bolg's hammer had struck, and beneath the congealing blood she could see the pale shape of—

"Oh my god, that is disgusting." She looked away with a wince. Was it possible to throw up if she was dead? What would that even look like? "You'd think they'd get that patched up in the afterlife."

Belekur's eyes were like chips of ice, the kind they showed in beer commercials. "Your impulsive mistakes have condemned the both of us."

"You sound like a broken record with that shit." Quinn swiped at her chin with the back of her hand, and a few dried flakes of blood fell to the ground. "I didn't ask for this, okay? I was trying to help."

"Your actions mean _nothing_. Your presence in this world is nothing more than an aberration. Everything in this realm happens for a reason—"

"Pretty sure you're not supposed to say that after someone dies." Quinn crossed her arms.

"And yet you remain! My mission remains incomplete, and with you in the way—"

"Hold up, what are you talking about? Remain? We _died_. Aren't we…" She glanced around. "Somewhere else?"

"You are not seeing. Open your eyes."

Quinn could feel a frustrated scream building in her chest, but at the same time, there was the strange feeling that there was more that she could be seeing, like the shadows around her could be torn away like curtains.

"My soul cannot be released from this world until my mission is complete. Despite your fatal mistake, we are banished from death until then."

She backed up until she hit a wall, then slid down to sit on the ground. "You have to be joking." Her voice sounded faint to her ears. "So...So I got killed, but then the ancient warrior gods were like, 'That's not allowed,' and now we're _stuck here_?"

"My people are not commanded by gods, only ancient laws," Belekur said, sounding slightly scornful. "The death of the dragon was only the beginning. The true threat, the one I was sent to help kill, is still out there."

Blinking rapidly, Quinn did the math, then looked up at them. She could tell they were thinking the same thing. "Didn't Gandalf mention something about a Sour Ron or something? That guy who's not an elf?"

Belekur nodded. "We must make haste for Dol Guldur."

"And where the hell is that? Where _are_ we right now?" She stared at the shadows around them, and as she focused, they did come away, and the sunlit stone of Ravenhill revealed itself once more. She hissed, though more from surprise than the brightness. "Woah, what?"

Her eyes landed on Bolg's enormous corpse, lying in the middle of the courtyard with his head almost severed from a vicious slash to the throat. Nearby was his hammer, which was splattered with her blood.

" _Wack_."

Soft footsteps made her look up in time to see a silvery figure enter the courtyard. Thranduil's armor was covered in splashes of black blood in an almost artsy fashion, though most of it was on the blades of his swords. The lines of his face were weighted with something like sadness, but when he caught sight of her, the impassive mask was back.

He regarded her silently for a moment, then turned to Belekur. "We meet again, warrior." His voice was just like his swords, smooth but with a clear edge of danger.

"Wait, you can see them too?" Quinn pushed herself to her feet. Her body felt lighter, as though it took less energy to get up than it had before.

"Unfortunately." Thranduil did not take his eyes off Belekur, who said nothing. "The battle is won, it seems. Yet you are still here."

 _Shit, the battle_. She rushed over to the edge of the courtyard and looked out at the plains below, but she couldn't get a good view of Dale.

"My true mission lies to the south, elf lord," Belekur said.

"If that's true, I'm surprised you deigned to stay for the fighting here, given your love for fleeing from war."

"Thousands of years later, and you still understand so little." They didn't even sound fazed by Thranduil's comment.

Quinn turned away from the ledge and said to the elf, "You wanna piss them, off, steal their body and die." She glanced at Belekur and started walking. "Come on. We gotta make haste or whatever."

The first thing she needed to do was check up on her friends, and find out who had survived the fighting. Then she'd figure out this whole Dol Guldur thing.

She retrieved her sword and headed out, trying to remember the way back to the road that would lead down to Dale. On the way, she spotted several giant bats that had been felled by arrows, giant claw marks, or broken necks. She didn't see any non-enemy bodies, which hopefully meant Kíli, Tauriel, Thorin, and whoever else had come up here had made it back down safely.

It was only when she made it down to the battlefield that she started to see fallen allies. Between the mountain and the city, the land was covered with the bodies of every race. A few soldiers were limping through the field, searching the carnage. She didn't recognize any of the faces of the fallen, and eventually tried not looking at all. The blank eyes and the stench was getting to her anyway.

Dale wasn't looking much better. The streets were littered with blood, rubble, and dead bodies. It was then that Quinn realized she was walking normally—the wound in her leg didn't hurt, and neither did her broken ribs.

 _Another side effect of being dead, I guess_.

Towards the center of the city, the bodies began to clear out. People were moving between buildings, which she recognized as makeshift hospitals for the wounded.

It was mostly men moving around, but one of the streets seemed to have a higher number of dwarves tending to their injured comrades. It was here that she found Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, Glóin, Óin, and Bilbo standing in a group outside one of the buildings. They were all dirty and bruised, but seemed to have more black blood than red on their clothing, which she took as a good sign.

"Hey, guys," she said. They turned to look at her, and went pale almost in unison.

 _Do I really look that bad?_ She scratched some more dried blood off her chin.

They all glanced at each other, as though to confirm that they were all seeing the same thing.

"Quinn," Bilbo said, his voice faint. "K-Kíli said you were slain on Ravenhill."

"Oh, yeah, I was." She figured it would be best to just tell the truth. "But you know me…" She gave a weak laugh. "I always get back on my feet."

Silently, Óin walked over and moved aside her dented breastplate. He took one look at her side and swore loudly. "How are you still standing?"

Quinn looked from him to the others, struggling for words.

"We don't have time for this," Belekur said. "We need to find a mount and leave."

No one reacted to this, and Quinn briefly wondered why Thranduil had been able to see Belekur but not the dwarves. Maybe it was just an elf thing. She decided to follow suit and ignore them for the time being.

"I, uh…" Her friends were still staring at her like she was a straight up ghost. "I'm not really allowed to die yet. Ancient warrior rules. There's still some stuff I gotta take care of."

Glóin crossed his arms, brow furrowed as though he was still trying to puzzle out her existence. "So you're a ghost, then?"

"I don't think so." Quinn glanced down at Óin, who had gone back to inspecting her injury. "I'm still pretty solid." What had Gandalf called those things that weren't living or dead? "I guess you could call me a wraith."

"Well, you're probably the most lively wraith I've ever seen," Bofur said, and she let out a small sigh of relief. If Bofur wasn't freaking out, then the situation was still salvageable. Bifur muttered something to his cousin, who then asked, "What's this other thing that you've got to take care of?"

"I gotta go kill someone in Dol Guldur. Sauerkraut or something."

"An ancient warrior never rests, eh?" Glóin shook his head. "Well, I'm coming with you." The others nodded and stepped forward, but Quinn held out her hands.

"No," she and Belekur said at the same time. "No, sorry, this is an invite only type thing." Going by Belekur's logic, having them come with her would only slow her down. But more than that, this mission was going to be much more dangerous than she was letting on. The worst that could happen to her was just dying _again_ (if that was possible) but her friends had lives to get back to. They'd just gotten their home back, and it wouldn't be fair to pull them away from that. "I can handle this myself."

"Is that so?" Óin asked, poking her right in the rib. It didn't hurt, but she could definitely feel the bone move.

Quinn grimaced and pulled away. "Don't do that." She turned back to the others. "Seriously, this is just...tying up loose ends. I'd say the harder job would be trying to put all this back together." She glanced around at the crumbling buildings of the city. "By the way, have you seen any of the others?"

A knot of anxiety flared up as soon as she asked the question, but it quieted as Bofur nodded and said, "Aye, the whole of the Company survived. Dori, Fíli, and Dwalin were injured, but they'll pull through."

"Oh, thank god." That, at least, was one less thing to worry about. "Send my best to them. I-I should probably get going."

She took a step back, but Bilbo's voice made her stop. "Quinn, what's going to happen to you when you've finished with this ancient warrior business?"

"I'll, uh…"

How would it happen, when it was all over? Would she disintegrate into dust, or would she just stop existing? Would her broken ribs choke her all over again? And where would she go afterwards?

"You know, I'm not sure. But if, for whatever reason, I don't see you guys again…" She fought to keep her voice steady. "It's been an honor working with this Company. I'm really happy to have met you all, and I'm glad that you have your home back."

Glóin was the first to step forward and hug her, and everyone else followed a moment later. After a few minutes of saying goodbye and pretending not to see each other cry, they bid her farewell, and she set off down the street with her motionless heart feeling heavier than ever.

* * *

Quinn found a horse in the stables at the edge of the city. It was moving restlessly at the back of the building, its muddy coat illuminated by a shaft of light falling through a hole in the ceiling.

She felt bad about basically stealing a horse, especially since Dale didn't exactly have an abundance of resources at the moment. But the faster she got to Dol Guldur, the less time she'd have to hear Belekur's pestering about wasting time. That thought alone was enough to quell her uncertainties about committing grand theft equine.

The horse turned to her and shifted uneasily, letting out a little snort and tossing its mane. Quinn held up both hands in a calming gesture.

"Hey there, horsie." She moved closer, wishing she had a carrot or something.

"Quinn?"

She turned around. The figure standing in the doorway was silhouetted by the light pouring through, enough that she couldn't see his features, but she recognized the voice. For a moment, they just stood in silence, staring at each other.

"Hi," she said. That didn't seem like enough, so she gave an awkward wave too. What exactly were you supposed to do when you ran into your friend a few hours after dying in his arms?

Kíli stepped into the stables, looking like he was about to cry. "H-How are you…"

"Um." _Oh, geez_. Quinn would have rather gotten a second hit from Bolg than have to deal with _anyone_ crying—much less a good friend. "L-Look, I can explain. It's okay." She'd taken a handful of snow and scrubbed the blood from her face and side, so hopefully she didn't look that bad.

"I saw you _die_."

"Yeah, that—well, you know, it happens. Always death o'clock somewhere, right?" She tried for a grin, but Kíli didn't so much as smile. _Shit._ _Lame Joke Protocol unsuccessful._ "So I died. But I'm not allowed to leave this world until I finish some ancient warrior stuff. That's why I'm…" She gestured to the horse.

"I'm sorry," Kíli said softly, and she wondered if he'd even heard her. "I should have protected you, back there."

"No. Shit, don't say that." Before Quinn knew what she was doing, she had crossed the room and bent down. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and after a moment, he hugged her back. "What happened was on me. I have been doing stupid shit since time immemorial, and not even death is going to stop me from making a complete ass of myself." His body shook in what could have been either a laugh or a sob. Just to be safe, she held onto him for a few moments longer before pulling back. "I'm just glad you're okay. And Tauriel…"

"She's with a healer right now," Kíli said, then cleared his throat. "She'll be all right."

"That's good." Quinn smiled. "You guys are good together. I mean, in the killing giant orcs way, but I also think you'd make cute babies."

That made him flush red, and even though he shook his head, she caught a grin at the corners of his mouth. "You are incorrigible. Even in death."

Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she let out a short laugh. "Oh, yeah. So you're over it now?"

He looked up and held her gaze. "As long as you come back."

Her smile wavered. Would it really be so bad to stay a while? Help Dale get back on its feet? She could handle Belekur's anger. Sauron was far off anyway, so maybe—

As if they'd heard her thoughts, Belekur said, "If you leave this threat unchecked, Sauron's forces will grow, and all the armies in the world would not be able to stop your friends from being slaughtered."

"I thought you didn't care about that," Quinn said before she could stop herself.

Kíli's eyes widened. "What?"

"Uh—" She held her hands out. "Sorry. That wasn't directed at you. Just talking to Belekur…'s ghost. Side effect of being dead."

"The lives of your friends do not concern me," they said. "But they matter to _you_."

Quinn took several steps back, relieved Kíli just looked confused rather than insulted. "Look, I'm running late, so I gotta go. You take care of yourself, okay?" She grabbed the horse by its reins and led it out of the stall and towards the entrance.

Kíli stopped her before she could reach the doorway and said, "We will meet again," with such conviction that she almost believed him herself.

Quinn reached down and squeezed his shoulder. "See you later."

With that, she led her mount out of the stables and towards the south gate—towards Dol Guldur.

 **If any of you have played Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (no, I'm not going to stop bringing up that game) then you'll recognize that first scene as being similar to Talion and Celebrimbor's first meeting. The dynamic is pretty similar here.**

 **So Quinn's...not really dead? Yay? There will be a few more twists before the end, but we're getting there.**


	27. Player Two

**Chapter 27: Player Two**

During the weeks it took to get to Dol Guldur, Quinn learned just what it was like to be dead.

In a lot of ways, it was convenient. She didn't have to eat, breathe, or sleep, though she liked to do the last one just to get a break from her thoughts.

At one point, she'd tripped while leading her horse across a ford and scratched her hand on a rock. The cut, which hadn't hurt more than a week-old bruise, had bled sluggishly (which made sense since her blood wasn't technically flowing anymore) and when she'd woken up the next day, it had disappeared entirely.

The wound that had killed her stayed, though. Quinn had gotten over her disgust and sometimes poked it when she was bored.

"So, what would happen if I were to get blown up or something?" she asked one day as they traveled along the southern border of Mirkwood. Her horse was walking, since it needed a break even if she didn't, and Belekur was walking alongside it. "Would I become a ghost like you? Or would I regrow myself like Deadpool?"

"I trust you won't endeavor to find the answer to that question."

"Or what if someone cut off my head and, like, put it on a boat to somewhere, and then put my body on a _different_ boat—"

A low noise like a thunderclap sounded from above. Quinn looked up, wondering if it was going to start raining soon (being dead did _not_ make her waterproof), but instead saw a burst of light that rippled outwards through the dark clouds.

"The battle has already begun," Belekur said.

"Looks like we're about to be fashionably late."

She spurred her horse onwards, into the trees and toward where the light had come from. Her mount quickly reached a gallop, tearing through the brush and leaving broken branches and scattered leaves in its wake. She ducked low to avoid the branches whipping by, but a few still scratched against her face and arms.

As she drew closer, the pounding of the horse's hooves crashing against the ground like drum beats, she felt a twinge in her chest that she figured was nerves. If she was still alive, her heart would have been pounding. Whatever happened next, it would be the last thing she ever did. _Better make it count_.

The foliage cleared out as Quinn neared the fortress. The bushes became thinner, more scraggly, and the trees gradually lost more leaves. As the first signs of gray, stained stones came into sight, the branches above her head became warped, stretching away from Dol Guldur as though trying to flee its evil presence.

Quinn knew that certain places could have auras, like how San Diego Comic Con's aura was "sweat" and White Castle's aura was "alien spaceship." But she'd never thought a place could feel evil before. Dol Guldur radiated _bad_ energy, a mixture of dread and malice, like every single brick wanted to curb stomp her.

Her horse seemed to feel it too. As they reached the bridge leading into the fortress, it halted suddenly, throwing Quinn forward.

She winced and slid off. "Thank _god_ this isn't a Western style saddle." The horse was breathing hard, its sweat-slicked skin rising and falling rapidly, and it started to back away from the bridge.

 _Not like I'll be needing it afterwards_. "It's been an honor." She saluted the horse and let it run back into the forest.

Quinn set off across the bridge, one hand brushing the pommel of her sword. Dol Guldur was the definition of haunted, with its crumbling bricks, large, thorny vines, and random metal spikes just waiting to impale the first person who wasn't watching where they were going. She remembered Bard's advice from all those weeks ago and made sure her sword was free of its sheath.

"Hypothetical question: what happens if Sauron is defeated before we even get there? Do we just vanish anyway?"

"I would not have been called here if I was not needed," Belekur said.

"Makes sense." She couldn't help but wonder if that still held true, though, given the fucked up circumstances under which they'd both arrived in Middle-earth. She tapped her sword again, glancing up at the sky. "I'm not gonna be able to use my laser beams, am I?"

Belekur had no comment for that, but Quinn didn't dwell on it long as she focused her hearing on a low, hissing noise.

It grew louder as she advanced into the fortress. She swiveled around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, but it seemed to be coming from all around. As she strained her ears, she realized it was whispering in a harsh language she didn't understand.

"Okay, _that's_ creepy."

The low murmuring was suddenly drowned out by the sharp _clang_ of metal up ahead. The sounds of battle became clearer as Quinn moved upwards—the clash of steel and sharp noises that almost sounded like small explosions.

She ran towards the sounds, up a short flight of stairs and across an open courtyard. Halfway through the narrow hallway just beyond, she stopped short as a strange figure appeared at the other end. It was almost transparent—she caught a glimpse of a man in a white robe fighting behind it—but she could make out a suit of armor and a creepy-looking helmet.

Without warning, it raised its sword and glided towards her.

"Is that a _ghost?_ " Quinn squeaked, backing up rapidly. Belatedly, she remembered to draw her sword and held it out. "The power of Christ compels you!"

"The Nazgûl carries a Morgul blade," Belekur said. "Do not let it touch you."

"Pretty sure it doesn't matter at this point," Quinn said, raising her sword to block the first strike from the Nazgûl's weapon. She half expected it to just pass through, but the ethereal blade connected with her own with enough force to send pain rattling up her wrist.

She cursed and backed up, but the Nazgûl pressed her, swinging a sword that seemed to weigh just as much as a lightsaber. It was only a matter of seconds before the tip of its blade sliced along her arm.

The pain was sharp enough to make her cry out, but just as quickly as it had come, it was swallowed up by a numbing cold sensation.

Quinn dodged its next blow and sliced at its chest, but her blade glanced off its armor. "Times like these, I wish I had a fucking proton pack." At least Belekur had let up with their comments on her fighting skills (or lack thereof).

The cold sensation on her arm was spreading, leaving behind a buzzing numbness as though her limb had fallen asleep. She switched her sword to her other hand, shaking her hand rapidly to try and get rid of the sensation. The wraith moved to attack again, and she instinctively took several steps backwards to compensate.

"Holy shit, what _is_ this?" The chill had moved up to her shoulder. She glanced towards Belekur, hoping for some advice, but they'd vanished.

Her next few parries were clumsy in her non-dominant hand, but she managed to keep her grip on her sword as she continued to back away from the Nazgûl. The cold spilled downward into her stomach, and she grunted in discomfort.

"I guess this is what Anna felt like in F—"

The wraith's hand shot out and seized her throat, the metal of its gauntlet digging into her skin. " _Join us,_ " it said, its voice carrying a strange, eerie undercurrent like a metallic rattling. " _Give in to shadow_."

Quinn could do nothing but gasp as the cold spread even faster, dripping into her toes and frosting over her eyelids. She was helpless, swaying numbly in the Nazgûl's grasp, when a sudden burst of warmth overcame her body, and she felt her lips moving.

"You will not have me yet, wraith."

She collapsed, shivering, then looked up to see the Nazgûl hadn't let go of her yet—that the person it was holding wasn't _her_ anymore.

Quinn watched with wide eyes as Belekur opened their eyes, switched their sword to their other hand, and plunged it into the Nazgûl's gut. A burst of light emanated from the blade, and the Nazgûl dissipated like smoke in the wind.

"Holy shit." Quinn stood and looked down at herself. She was in her old body, the one from Earth, but she'd taken on a ghostly, translucent appearance. She glanced back at Belekur.

They'd switched places.

"Wait, how did you do that?" She looked down at her pale, ethereal hands. On the side of her arm where she'd been cut by the Nazgûl's blade, there was a white scar, which matched the mark on Belekur's arm. "The sword thing, and th-the...whatever that was."

They cast her a disdainful glance. "There is still much you do not understand." Before she could respond, they turned and dashed off towards where the others were fighting.

"Hey!" She ran after them, her sneakers making no sound against the grimy stone. Had they known that something like this would happen?

In the courtyard just beyond, the rest of the Nazgûl were engaged with a small group of fighters. There was the man in white she had seen earlier, blasting back one of the wraiths with his staff. Gandalf was fighting alongside a man dressed in brown, and a few feet away, Elrond was parrying blows from three Nazgûl at once. At the center of the courtyard knelt a blonde woman in white.

The remaining two Nazgûl turned towards Belekur and advanced. The ancient warrior leapt into action, and Quinn saw exactly why the deities of this world had only called on one person to change the tide of a whole war.

Belekur moved like a tiger, combining the speed of elves with the brutal strength of dwarves. They parried both of the initial strikes of the Nazgûl with one movement and pressed them both with a flurry of blows that Quinn had only thought possible for a combo finisher or a Final Smash. They spun and slashed downwards, cleaving one of the Nazgûl from shoulder to hip with a flash of light bursting from the blade. The wraith had disintegrated before either of its halves had time to hit the ground.

Quinn glanced up at the sky to confirm it was still cloudy. "How can still you use the laser thingy?" she shouted at them, but they ignored her in favor of decimating the other Nazgûl.

She guessed it would be pretty lame for a magic sword to be put out of commission on an overcast day or underground. Maybe there was another way to activate its powers, and she'd just never figured it out.

With the help of Belekur, the rest of the fighters managed to dispatch the remaining enemies. Quinn kept out of the way, knowing she'd be useless if one of the Nazgûl came after her (and she didn't find out how extra dead she could get in this new ghost form).

Once the fight was over, Gandalf turned to Belekur, regarding them almost curiously. "Belekur. It is good to have your assistance."

"So you spoke the truth." The man in white stepped forward. "The situation at hand did indeed call for the help of an ancient warrior."

Gandalf gave him a look that read, _Yeah, no shit_.

Elrond had moved to check on the woman in white. "The Nazgûl may have been vanquished for now, but they will return."

Belekur glanced at him, then turned to Gandalf. "The Dark Lord is not here?"

"Sauron is—"

A nearby tower exploded, the force of it scattering dust and bits of stone across the courtyard. Instead of dissipating, the fire of the explosion grew, spreading outward and taking the shape of an eye with a black slitted pupil in the middle.

"Holy _shit_." Quinn took several steps backward, blinking rapidly. Looking at that thing was like staring at the sun, if the sun radiated evil and was thirty feet away and was planning on killing everyone.

The thing, whatever it was, began to speak in the same guttural language she'd heard when they'd first entered the fortress. Nine ghostly figures rose before it, and she recognized them as the wraiths that they had _just killed_.

The three wizards raised their staffs, and Elrond stood in front of the woman with his sword poised to strike. Belekur's sword lit up, but the glow seemed to flicker in the face of this new enemy.

"Is _that_ Sauron?" Quinn asked, but her voice was barely audible over the discordant hissing of the flaming eye.

In the center of the courtyard, the woman rose to her feet, and as she moved, an eerie change overtook her form. Shadows crawled up her white dress, turning it a greenish black like the ocean depths. All of the light in her figure rose to her outstretched palm, which shone out and caused Sauron to snarl.

When she spoke, her voice reverberated throughout the courtyard, layered as though many were speaking instead of one.

" _You have no power here, servant of Morgoth. You are nameless!_ "

As the light expanded, Sauron's form shrunk until there was only the silhouette of an armored figure where the pupil had once been.

" _Faceless! Formless!_ "

Sauron roared, flames flaring out from his body and causing shadows to flicker throughout the courtyard.

" _Go back to the void from whence you came!"_

With one final cry, the woman sent a spear of light to strike Sauron directly in the center of his chest. He and the Nazgûl were blasted back, flying away in a cloud of fire and smoke until they were nothing more than a flickering light on the horizon.

Slowly, Quinn stood up, not even realizing she'd crouched down with her hands on her head. "Oh...my...god." That had been a lot of build up for Sauron to just get Team Rocket'd by this random lady, but she couldn't deny that had also been super badass.

The woman returned to her normal color and collapsed, Elrond managing to catch her at the last second. He slowly lowered her to the ground.

"The spirit of Sauron endured," she said, her voice shaky.

"And has been banished," the man in white added.

"He will flee into the east."

Elrond looked up. "Gondor should be warned. They must set a watch on the walls of Mordor."

"No." The man in white walked to the edge of the courtyard, staring towards the spot where Sauron had disappeared. "Look after the Lady Galadriel. She has spent much of her power. Her strength is failing. Take her to Lothlórien."

"If you need someone to go warn Gondor—" Quinn started, but Elrond spoke over her.

"My Lord Saruman, he must be hunted down and destroyed, once and for all."

"Lord Elrond is right," Gandalf said. "We cannot again let Sauron gather his strength again."

Saruman turned back to face them, his face impassive. "Without the One Ring, Sauron can never again hold dominion over Middle-earth."

"Even without the Ring, he still holds a great deal of power," Gandalf retorted. Quinn got the sense that these two fought a lot. "He raised an army that nearly took Erebor. With a stronghold like that under his influence, he would still have considerable influence."

"Yet this army you speak of was defeated. Sauron may be a threat, but he is not one so great as you believe. Go, now. Leave the Dark Lord to me."

"You have my aid," Belekur said. "My purpose here is not completed until Sauron is destroyed."

"So we're going to Mordor, now? Where is that?" Quinn asked. If it was somewhere east, she hoped it was in a northerly direction so she could stop in on her friends before being banished from the mortal plane or whatever.

Saruman regarded Belekur with an unreadable stare. Quinn thought he almost seemed displeased, though that didn't make a lot of sense. "Very well. I will enter Mordor through the gates of Minas Morgul. I expect to see you there in one month's time."

"Am I getting ignored, or what?" Quinn looked around the courtyard. There was no guarantee any of the wizards could see her, but Thranduil had been able to see Belekur's spirit back at Ravenhill. If that was an elf ability, shouldn't Elrond be able to see her? She walked into his line of sight. "Hello?"

Elrond helped Galadriel to her feet. "I will return the Lady Galadriel to Lothlórien, and send word to Gondor. They will be the first to suffer Sauron's wrath when he gathers his strength."

Quinn jumped up and down and waved her hands, but no one reacted. "Okay, seriously, _what_ is going on?"

Belekur put one hand on their sword. "I leave for Minas Morgul at once."

She walked up to them as everyone else began leaving the courtyard. "Why can't they see me?"

They ignored her as Gandalf approached and spoke in a low voice. "You are changed, Belekur. Is it really you?"

"It is. My body was...broken on the field of battle beneath the Lonely Mountain, but I have strength within me yet to finish Sauron once and for all."

Gandalf nodded. "That is good to hear." Quinn tried poking him in the side to get his attention, but her hand just went through. "I must ask, though...what became of the young woman who inhabited your body before?"

Belekur didn't even blink as they said, "She is no more."

"I'm literally _right here_." Quinn was starting to panic. Being a literal ghost, with the only person who could hear or see her completely ignoring her, was _not_ how she wanted to spend her final days. It was almost bad as being player two in Super Mario Galaxy.

"This place has drained a good deal of my power, or I would join you at Minas Morgul," Gandalf said. "But I hope for the sake of Middle-earth that you succeed."

"There is no other option," Belekur said, then turned to go.

Quinn had no choice but to follow.

 **I'm totally fucking with the timeline here, since Middle-earth is ridiculously huge and travel times are a little hard to calculate. Where are the eagles when you need em?**

 **Also, I love writing the Nazgûl. I have no clue why, they're just so badass and creepy.**

 **If everything goes according to plan, we will have two chapters and an epilogue (?) after this one. Buckle up, guys!**

 **(Sidenote: I find it kind of hilarious that Elrond still doesn't know about the mixup with Quinn and Belekur.)**


	28. Doom

**Chapter 28: Doom**

"I am literally going to stab you if you don't tell me what's going on. I may not be able to do it now, but once I get back into that body, I will stab _myself_. See how you like that."

Quinn paused again to take a breath, then realized she didn't have to. They'd left Dol Guldur far behind at this point, and she still hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling of not having a body anymore.

With their horse gone, Belekur had been forced to move through Mirkwood on foot, stepping past rotting trees and over tangled thorns with steady speed. Being a partial ghost, Quinn didn't have much trouble keeping up.

As soon as they had left the fortress, the rant that had been building inside her chest for weeks came tumbling out, fueled by all the stress she'd experienced over the past few weeks, from being shot in the shoulder with a poisoned arrow to dying _again_ to literally being forced out of her body (even if it hadn't been hers to begin with). But at the same time, she was also trying to wear Belekur down, hoping at some point they would get annoyed enough with her to explain what was happening. How long that would take, she wasn't sure, but it wasn't like she was going to tire herself out anytime soon.

"Yeah, I get that this is poetic justice and all, since you had to sit in the backseat for like four months while I was on the quest, but I didn't even know you were there. And it isn't fair because you always know more than I do, and now that I'm short a physical body, I have nothing." She looked down at herself. "Except for my Street Fighter t-shirt. And my outrageous sense of humor."

Belekur vaulted over a fallen tree and said nothing.

Quinn made a sound like radio static. "Come in, Belekur. Warrior One, do you copy? Please respond." She made more static noises. "Ten-four. I can do this all day, bitch. Over."

Two hours later, she had fallen into a sullen silence, grudgingly following Belekur as they continued towards the edge of Mirkwood. The silent trek had given Quinn plenty of time to reflect on her situation, and she decided it was less than ideal. If neither a wizard nor an elf could see her in her current state, then odds were her friends wouldn't be able to either. If she'd been able to touch anything, she would have tried something ouija board style, but it seemed the only thing she couldn't pass through was the ground.

As far as she could tell, the only way she could switch back was if Belekur got cut with one of the Nazgûl's weapons. But if that happened, it would be _her_ facing down the killer ghosts.

So she was pretty much screwed.

Up ahead, the trees began to thin, and Quinn realized they had reached the edge of the forest. To the right, the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant orange and cast long shadows over the empty fields before them. Only sparse patches of thick grass grew across the stretch of dry dirt, making the sliminess of Mirkwood look like a greenhouse in comparison.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked as they stepped out onto the barren land. She'd noticed it before when they'd first entered the forest, but hadn't paid much attention then.

"This is a relic of the war Sauron waged against Middle-earth an Age past," Belekur said, making her turn in surprise.

For the first time, she was able to get a look at the real Belekur—their posture tall and steady, their features set in neutral determination. Her eyes fell to the wound in their side. Seeing the dented breastplate, torn clothing, and bruised skin on someone else's person made her skin prickle.

"Look." She swallowed, hard. "I just want to say I'm sorry. This situation has been pretty sucky for both of us. I got in the way of your mission in a pretty major way, and I also kind of...got you killed. So I know I'm probably the last person you want to be stuck with right now."

Belekur didn't react at all during her little speech. When it became clear that she'd said her piece, they said, "Your words will do nothing to change the situation at hand."

They started to move forward, but Quinn stepped in front of them (not that it would have done much good if they'd decided to just walk through her). "Why is this so important to you, anyway? You don't care about saving the people of this world. So why are you doing this?"

"I do not have long to reach Minas Morgul." They began walking again, but Quinn rapidly backed up to keep herself in their line of sight.

"Alright, well, if you're heading south, then I'm going north to check up on my friends." She wouldn't be able to speak with them, but she figured seeing how they were doing would be better than going off with a grouchy warrior to fight evil ghosts.

"Your spirit is still bound to this body."

"Oh, yeah? Then why can't anyone see me?" Quinn put her hands on her hips. "Thranduil could see _you_ in Ravenhill."

"I am the reason we are both still bound to this plane. Without a physical form, your spirit is of little consequence. Were you to stray too far, you would fade entirely."

 _Fade?_ She suppressed a shudder at that. "Well, what is too far? What radius are we talking, here? Five feet? A hundred miles?"

"You are welcome to find out."

"Was that sass I just got from you?" Quinn tilted her head, torn between feeling amused and irritated. "Fine, then, I guess we're going to Minas Morgul."

"You never had a choice in the matter," Belekur said, then broke into a sprint.

That was kind of a weird way to end the conversation, but she figured they were trying to meet the one-month deadline Saruman had given them. She watched them run for a moment, legs and arms pumping with the confidence that they wouldn't ever tire, then realized that they weren't supposed to get too far from each other.

She wondered if they were trying to leave her behind on purpose, then ran to catch up.

For all the nothing that happened in the next few weeks, they passed quickly. The two of them ran without stopping, and since there were no breaks for eating or resting to break it up, the days blurred together. Before she knew it, they'd already traversed the brown plains and made their way through a series of rocky crags.

"Are we getting close?" Quinn asked, gesturing to the tall black range that rose in the near distance. "Those mountains look kinda evil."

It was pretty weird to be having normal conversation at a full sprint, but neither of them had any trouble with it.

The only answer she got was a quick nod. Quinn tried not to grumble to herself. Only a handful of words had passed between them during their travels—not that Belekur would have made great conversation otherwise.

She'd wondered about Belekur's evasion to her earlier question. It was possible they just didn't feel like answering, but she couldn't help but speculate. She'd made up a bunch of bullshit when the dwarves had asked her about ancient warriors at the beginning of the queset, but she had no idea what kind of world Belekur had actually come from. Maybe it was a touchy subject for them.

Quinn decided to bring it up again a few days later. They'd finally reached another forest at the base of the mountains, and the thick undergrowth forced Belekur to slow their pace.

"So, what is your world like?" she asked as they crossed a wide, shallow stream. "How were you chosen to come here? Are you the only ancient warrior, or are there more?"

On the other side of the stream, the bank rose into a small bluff. Belekur leapt up, pushing off a boulder in the stream to gain momentum, then grabbed the edge of the bluff and pulled themselves up.

Quinn sighed and jumped up as well, taking advantage of her newfound weightlessness as a ghost. "Can we please not with the silent treatment again? I have been bored as fuck for the past month. How are you not bored as well?"

Belekur pushed aside a branch and continued onwards.

She blew out a long breath and followed. Playing on their sympathies obviously wasn't going to work. "You know, I'm thinking we should try and get a working relationship here. Because if I end up getting control of your body again—"

"That will not happen."

"Are you sure about that?" she pressed. "All it took for me was a graze on the arm." She glanced down at the scar that still ran across her forearm, then at the matching one on Belekur's. "If Sauron calls those things for backup, you'll be facing _nine_ with only one wizard to help you. I don't care if you have four arms and your name is General Grievous, those are _not_ good odds."

"They will not touch me," Belekur said. Quinn didn't know if it was doubt she heard in their voice, or if she was just projecting. If she had to face the Nazgûl herself, there was an even higher chance of her getting turned into an ancient warrior pincushion for evil swords.

"You don't know that for sure." She crossed her arms. "But try being nice to me, and I might be more likely to listen to what you have to say."

No response.

"Point taken," Quinn said, nodding. "Good talk. I give up."

They passed through a clearing and she got a better view of the mountains to their left. She assumed Mordor would be nearby, possibly on the other side, and wondered what a land that served as headquarters to a supreme evil being would look like. She was guessing a landscape like something out of Doom—craggy cliffs, dead trees, hordes of hellish monsters.

"My world is at war."

Quinn's head snapped towards them, and she almost asked them to repeat themselves. So after a month of silence, she'd had to tap into her manipulative bitch side to get them to talk. _Good to know_. "War? So why are you fighting here instead of there?" She bit her lip, wondering if that was the right question to ask.

"The conflict in my own world would make the War of the Last Alliance look like a mere skirmish. Our warriors fought in the rivers of blood and scorched valleys from battles the day before. They chose those among us who would become the next generation of fighters, and sent us to other worlds to prepare."

Her jaw dropped. "Wait, so this is all just _practice_ for you?"

Belekur continued moving, not looking at her. "The war of my world is a deadly one. Mere training would not be enough."

"Jesus." Quinn made a face. "So you win a war here, then go back to your world and fight in an even harder war. Do you ever get, like, a break?"

They tilted their head slightly. "My people are not weak. We do not rest."

"I find that very hard to believe." She'd been in that body, and she'd definitely needed a few power naps here and there.

"I do not need your belief. It is true."

"Right." If the ancient warriors' training program involved sending new recruits to different worlds, it was possible one had ended up in her own. That would have made a pretty cool movie. "What's this war about, anyway? In your world?"

Belekur tilted their head again.

"Like, what are you fighting for? Who are you fighting against? What are you going to do after the war is over?"

"Our enemies wear golden armor and march under a different banner. The war ends once we have killed them all, and I do not expect to see that end."

Quinn furrowed her brow at their slightly evasive answer. Though they'd probably never admit it, it sounded like they didn't really know what they were fighting for—what they expected to _die_ for.

"So, I guess you being dead is kind of going to put a wrench in those plans," she said. "Is your captain or whatever going to be mad if you come back...dead?"

That was a weird thought, and she wondered if, when their mission was over, they would go back at all. Would Quinn possibly go with them, or just disappear?

Belekur didn't reply, and Quinn was once again struck with the feeling that they didn't want to admit that they didn't know.

She wanted to ask more, like if they had a family or if they were just grown from a test tube or something, but she figured that was enough questioning for one day.

The conversation had given her a little more insight into Belekur's personality, but she still hadn't gotten to the root of what they were after, and what she had ended up costing them.

A disturbing thought occurred to her. It was possible there _wasn't_ an ulterior motive to all this—that Belekur killed for the sake of killing, and that the person she had become bound to wasn't really human at all.

 **I will shamelessly admit that this is just a filler chapter so that I can get the count up to 30 again. But I also thought it was interesting to get a little bit more of an insight into Belekur's character in the meantime. Next chapter will be basically the finale, and lots of cool stuff will happen, and then the next will just wrap everything up.**


	29. Final Boss

**Chapter 29: Final Boss**

"Can you drop a rock down there? I wanna see if there's any radioactive creatures in the water."

Belekur ignored her and continued across the bridge. Quinn glanced at them from where she was leaning over the side, then looked back at the dark, sludgy water below. They'd reached a crossroads earlier that day, which stood at the center of a section of black, scorched land. Not far from there, they'd entered a gap between two of the black mountains and found themselves on the bridge to Minas Morgul.

"This is _exactly_ what I'd expect the entrance to an evil fortress to look like," Quinn said, jogging to catch up with Belekur. The walls were illuminated by a sinister green light that somehow didn't do much to lessen the shadows shrouding the area. She glanced up. The sun was shining down on them, but it seemed weirdly distant. "By the way, where's Saruman? Did we miss his one-month deadline?"

"No," Belekur replied.

"Not even sure why he set it so soon. If he planned on getting here that fast, he might have given us a ride."

Belekur pushed open the gates and walked in. As she followed, Quinn glanced up at the walls with a frown. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

The gate led to a wide street, bordered on either side by buildings stained with ash and illuminated by the same creepy light. They didn't really seem like fortress buildings, but more like those that she might find in Dale.

 _Oh, shit._ This _was_ Dale—or, at least, another city. People had lived here, once. The realization gave her the same creepy feeling she'd had seeing Erebor in its abandoned state.

As if that wasn't enough, the continually moving shadows had her constantly glancing around, and she half-expected the creepy whispering from Dol Guldur to start up again.

On their part, Belekur walked with purposeful strides, their head faced forward, but Quinn didn't miss the constant scanning of their eyes.

At the highest point of the city stood a tower, the eerie green light illuminating its pale length. They made their way towards it, Quinn's nerves getting worse with each step.

"Hey, didn't Saruman say he would meet us at the gates?" She spun around as she saw something move in her periphery. "So why don't we wait there instead of walking _towards_ the creepy tower?"

Overhead, dark clouds were beginning to gather between the dark hulking shapes of the mountains.

"Look." She sped up so she was walking in front of Belekur, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly as she turned to face them. "You strike me as an 'I work alone' type person, but I really think we should wait until Saruman gets here." She stuck a finger in their direction. "It's not helping your case at all if I get the body back."

"You would not have it for long." They continued on, walking right through her.

Quinn followed, spitting curses under her breath, and soon they were standing at the base of the tower. The wall surrounding it had jutting structures at intervals that reminded her of fangs. At the center was a tall doorway, the interior of which was pitch black.

Without breaking their stride, Belekur walked through and into the darkness.

They came into a large, circular room lit by torches. The floor, which had once been brightly colored tile, was now cracked and dull.

Belekur's footsteps echoed around the cavernous room as the two of them walked farther in. On a pedestal in the back of the room was a weird dark orb, and as Quinn stared at it, she thought she saw a burst of fire.

A hollow rushing sound filled the place. In the next instant, dark green smoke flashed in the center of the room, and a wraith appeared in its midst.

Quinn stepped a little closer to the exit. Once again, she noted the absence of her heartbeat, which would have been pounding now, but it didn't lessen the pure fear surging through her body.

" _Have you come to surrender?"_ the Nazgûl asked in its eerie, rattling voice.

Another appeared next to it. " _To join us in the darkness?_ "

Quinn wondered if their voices sounding the same was just a side effect of being a wraith, or if they practiced it on their days off.

Belekur drew their sword, their stance shifting slightly as they prepared to attack.

Both Nazgûl lunged, moving in a streak of smoke, and Belekur parried their blows with a powerful stroke that sent both of them reeling.

"I think I might wait outside, okay?" Quinn started backing up. After seeing how fast the Nazgûl could move, she did _not_ want to get caught up in that.

Belekur took advantage of the opening they had created and lunged forward to finish off one of the Nazgûl. It vanished, however, before their blade could connect, and the other did the same.

" _Give in_ ," a voice whispered from the shadows.

They let out a low growl and spun, searching for the source of the voice.

" _You will only find defeat here, warrior_."

A couple more Nazgûl swooped in—she couldn't tell if they were different ones or the same. They attacked in a similar manner, but were pushed back and disappeared once more.

Quinn had seen this kind of tactic before. If the Nazgûl had wanted to defeat Belekur straight away, they would have attacked all at once. "They're playing with you!" she shouted. "I think this might be a trap!"

Belekur ignored her, spinning around just in time to fend of the next pair of Nazgûl. They were getting irritated, she could tell, but obviously weren't going to retreat.

She let out a sigh as another pair attacked. "What is this, Couples Ancient Warrior Baiting?" She glanced out the door. Where the hell was Saruman?

The next Nazgûl that appeared was different. It wore a large metal helm adorned with spikes that resembled the structure outside. Instead of a sword or a spear, this one carried a mace with five bladed edges that looked sharp enough to cut off a man's arm.

" _You cling to this world by a mere thread of your wasted life. Your cause is a hopeless one_."

Belekur advanced, each step echoing in the large room. "I will destroy you first, Witch-king."

" _You had no hope of defeating me before. You are nothing more than a shell, now._ " The Nazgûl walked at an almost leisurely pace towards them. " _We will make you one of us_."

"Witch-king? More like Bitch-king!" Quinn shouted. The Nazgûl couldn't be the only ones doing the shit-talking.

They clashed, the impact of their weapons sending a small shockwave through the room. The Witch-king stepped back and swung its mace sideways in a punishing blow. Quinn winced as she remembered Bolg doing the same thing to her.

Belekur hit the ground on one knee, the blow passing mere inches over their head, and slashed at the Nazgûl's leg. The blow connected, causing it to grunt in pain, and it retreated in a cloud of smoke.

"Cowards!" They took a few steps forward, as though to chase after it.

Around the perimeter of the room, hovering about twenty feet off the floor, all nine Nazgûl appeared.

"Belekur, you gotta put a rain check on this shit!" Quinn shouted. "Just tell them you gotta catch a bus soon or something!"

One by one, the wraiths dove like hawks, striking at Belekur before disappearing in flashes of smoke. The warrior spun, parrying faster than she would have thought possible, but Quinn knew this wasn't going to end well. These wraiths were just toying at their food.

She couldn't just stand there and watch this. Quinn took a few tentative steps forward. If she hadn't intervened when Kíli and Tauriel were fighting Bolg, one of them might have died. And as much as she hated being a ghost, Belekur was the one who needed to end this, to make sure no one else got hurt.

So she was going to run in there, in ghost form, unarmed, against nine deadly wraiths…

Belekur wasn't actually doing so bad. She took a few steps back.

The wraiths attacked again, appearing one by one to strike at them. Belekur slashed at a Nazgûl, leaving a sizeable dent in its pauldron, but instead of disappearing, the wraith attacked again as more began to appear.

Belekur drove their sword into the gut of the wraith and vaporized it with a flash of light. They dodged a strike from one of the Nazgûl's swords and used the sideways motion to swing their sword to the side and cut into another wraith, who was dispatched in the same manner.

Belekur finished off two more, but not before they let out a cry muffled by clenched teeth. As they turned to parry another blow, Quinn saw a faint, dark line on the back of their neck. It was only a graze, but that was all a Morgul blade needed to do the job.

With four of the wraiths defeated, four more surrounded Belekur. The warrior was in constant motion, fending off attacks and trying to land another hit, and was just preoccupied enough not to notice the Witch-king appear behind them.

"Bitch-king on your six!" Quinn shouted. If Belekur could just finish the Nazgûl off before they had to trade…

Belekur turned just as the Nazgûl's mace connected, making their head snap sideways. The sound of a bone breaking echoed throughout the room as they were thrown to the floor. The ancient warrior hit the ground and lay still.

"Holy _shit_." Quinn stepped forward again, her knees shaking. "Come on, _get up_."

A long cut from the mace's edge bled sluggishly on the side of Belekur's face. They did not stir as the Witch-king advanced, dropping its mace in favor of a long knife.

" _You are alone, warrior. No one will remember your name after you perish_." The wraith raised the knife, the blade gleaming in the low light of the torches, and plunged it into Belekur's heart.

Quinn realized she was running at full speed towards the pair. Whether the Nazgûl could see or hear her, she didn't know—and really didn't care. She dove towards Belekur, reaching out for them and praying this would work. When her hands made contact with their skin, everything went dark.

It wasn't an instant switch like she'd been expecting. She couldn't see anything. An icy chill crept through her body, but she couldn't shiver—she couldn't move.

Along with the cold came a low whisper that seemed to crawl up her spine. " _Join us…_ "

Vague shapes began to take form in her vision. It took her a moment to make out the details of the dark landscape—storm clouds the color of ink above, a land ravaged by cracks and scorch marks below.

And in the center of it all, ten warriors cloaked in black with metal helms and weapons dripping with venom advanced, walking towards the light with the intent to blot it out—

 _Screw. That._

Quinn banished the image from her mind. A new vision took its place, one in which the dwarves of Thorin's Company fought against an overwhelming black tide of orcs and trolls.

She gasped, and the images came faster—Lake-town in flames, a child crying in the woods, the expanse of stars above the Misty Mountains, a tomb filled with dusty skeletons, the sharp angle of the skyscraper above as she'd fallen to her death the first time—

Light filled her vision. Warmth crept into her body, bringing feeling back into her toes and fingertips. Her jaw creaked open as she tried to draw breath.

One last image filled her vision, one of ten warriors walking beneath a mountain range, and then everything faded to shadow.

Quinn blinked, her eyes finding the arched ceiling of the room. A weird sliding sensation from the center of her chest made her wince, followed by the squelching sound of the Witch-king's sword being pulled out.

With that, warmth finally returned to the rest of her body. She sat up. Belekur, back in ghost form, was standing off to the side, regarding her with an almost eager look.

She looked up and realized she was still surrounded by wraiths. They looked down at her too, as though they'd just noticed the stab to the heart hadn't had the intended effect.

"...Shit."

Quinn rolled to the side, narrowly dodging a swipe from one of the Nazgûl's swords, and lunged for her sword, which was lying on the ground a few feet away. As soon as she had it within her grasp, she sprinted for the door.

"Fleeing is not going to save you," Belekur said, keeping pace with her.

A hiss of smoke sounded behind her, and Quinn dropped into a roll, barely avoiding another strike. She just had to make it outside.

Whether it was luck or the Nazgûl's sadistic desire to see her flee, Quinn made it outside unscathed. The clouds above had grown darker, but a sliver of sunlight still shone down above the city. She held her sword up to the light, spun about, and slashed at the pursuing wraiths.

The beam of light caught all five across the chest, and they dissipated like water vapor.

The momentum of her movement sent Quinn off balance, and she fell on her back with a grunt. For a moment, she just lay there, certain she'd be breathing hard if she was still alive.

Belekur stopped just next to her and said nothing.

She grinned and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a voice said, "Well done, warrior."

Quinn stood up and looked around. From one of the side streets outside the tower, Saruman stepped out into the light, looking like he'd been in no hurry to get there.

"Where have _you_ been?"

"There is no hope in defeating the Nazgûl or Sauron until the One Ring is found," Saruman said, which wasn't really an answer to her question.

"What is the One Ring?" Quinn asked, wondering why the hell he hadn't mentioned this earlier.

"Sauron poured nearly all of his power and life force into this Ring. He and the Nazgûl are bound to it. It is his source of strength, but also his greatest weakness." As the wizard came closer, Quinn couldn't help but notice how black his eyes were, like those of a bird of prey.

"Then why say you were going after Sauron at all?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He glanced at the hole in her breastplate. "This was not my plan, and I had hoped the Nazgûl would destroy you before you realized as much. But you are stronger than I expected." When Quinn raised her sword, he held up one hand. "Peace. I believe we would be better suited working together."

"Why me? You could have asked the others back in Dol Guldur." She frowned, trying to figure out what the wizard's game was.

"The others of the White Council do not understand the capabilities of the ring. In the right hands, it could be used to destroy Sauron once and for all. And you will not be able to leave this world until that is done."

Belekur appeared at her side and said, "Accept his offer."

She started to turn towards them, but stopped herself. So Saruman was going to find Sauron's ring and use it to destroy him. At face value it sounded like a good plan, but she didn't understand why he was going behind everyone's backs.

"I know your nature, warrior. This is the only real chance we have at stopping the Dark Lord." Saruman shifted his staff, the end of it making a small _click_ as it hit the ground.

"This _is_ our best option." Belekur was staring at her so intently she thought their gaze might burn a hole in the side of her head. "You spoke the truth earlier—I know more than you." When she didn't react, they said, "You said if I responded to your questions, you would heed me."

She had cut a deal with them, and it was probably a good idea to show she was trustworthy in case they ever ended up switching again. Whatever was going to happen next, she couldn't pretend it was a game anymore. She needed someone like Belekur on her side.

Quinn straightened and locked eyes with Saruman. "I accept your proposal."

 **I just want to clarify something that a lot of people seem to be struggling with. Belekur does not have a gender. When you live in a society that entirely revolves around war, gender doesn't really come up too often. I even mentioned at the end of the last chapter that Belekur may not be human at all, and would therefore not follow human ideas of being a man/woman. Quinn is not in a "man body" or "woman body," but in fact is currently in a dead body with great abs and broken ribs on one side. I realize this might be a new concept to some of you, so hopefully you learned something new today! :)**

 **After this we got an epilogue type deal, where I'll put the final note for this story.**


	30. Epilogue: Open World

**Epilogue: Open World**

It wasn't until they had left Minas Morgul and reached the crossroads that Quinn felt it was safe to speak.

"All right, you wanna tell me why I just agreed to work with that sketchy ass wizard?" she asked.

"He is right. Finding the One Ring is our only chance to defeat Sauron. But the others of the White Council are correct in their doubts as well." Belekur gave her a meaningful look that still managed to look like a glare. "Sauron is a being of evil, and his devices carry that same evil within. The Ring will corrupt those who choose to use it. If Saruman finds the Ring, he will fall to darkness before he can use it against the Dark Lord."

Quinn's eyes widened as they spoke. "Okay, so why did we agree to help his ass if he's just gonna be corrupted?"

"Saruman has resources, power. If one such as him is actively searching for the Ring, he will find it first."

She grimaced slightly. "Makes sense. I just don't like going behind everyone's back about this."

"That does not matter. We must do whatever is necessary to destroy Sauron."

"And that's something I want to talk to you about." Quinn jabbed a finger in their direction. "You're a fucking kamikaze. You went in there, without backup, knowing you were going to lose, knowing you couldn't beat Sauron without the Ring. You knew you couldn't even beat the Nazgûl, and you _still_ fought them. Those people back in your world taught you to fight like a badass, but they also told you to basically kill yourself if you can't win. If I hadn't gotten in there and ran our ass back through that door, we'd both be toast."

Belekur stared at her coldly. "Were it not for you, I would still be alive."

"Fair point. But you still gotta reel it in. Do it for my sake. And since I get the feeling that doesn't convince you, just do it so you don't get bitch slapped with a giant mace again." She felt the injury with a wince. "I gotta figure out how to fix this dent in my face, anyway."

The same went for her armor, too. Besides the dent from Bolg's hammer, there was now a giant puncture where the Witch-king had stabbed them, and her friends would probably freak out if she came back like that.

"All right. First order of business: find an armorer. And try not to scare the townspeople." She looked over to the city in the west, which was visible next to the shiny ribbon of a river. "And second…" She turned her gaze north. It had been months since she'd seen her friends. She hoped they were doing all right.

"We must begin our search for the Ring," Belekur said.

"Yeah, we'll get to that." She turned to them. "You know, if we're going to be sharing a body a while longer, we probably should be working together. Compromising and all that, so…" She held out a hand. "Soulmates?"

Belekur glanced at her hand.

"You know, like roommates, but our souls are...eh, whatever." Quinn withdrew her hand and started walking. "Let's go be heroes."

 **And with that cheesy ending, we are finally done with this fic! I was tempted to call this last chapter Blatant Sequel Bait, because of course there is potential for there to be a continuation to this story which would take place in the LOTR era.**  
 **A huge thanks to everyone who read, commented, favorited, and followed this story. Special shoutout to olddanfucker for leaving a comment to own the libs or something. And of course lots of love to drwatsonn and mercutios for all the lovely comments and sticking with this story despite all my bullshit.**

 **The sequel should be up in like 5 minutes, so keep an eye out for that!**


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